


Validation Required

by ivy475



Category: 3 From Hell, House of 1000 Corpses (Movies), The Devil's Rejects
Genre: 3 from hell - Freeform, Adult Content, Angst, Blood, Death, Drinking, Erotica, F/M, Homophobic Slurs, House Of 1000 Corpses - Freeform, Light BDSM, Marijuana, Murder, Sadism, The Devil's Rejects - Freeform, Violence, baby firefly - Freeform, erotic romance, mature - Freeform, otis b driftwood - Freeform, otis driftwood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-10-27 19:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivy475/pseuds/ivy475
Summary: Selene is going through a bad break-up. Otis is an old lover who proves he cares way more than he lets on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was supposed to be a one shot but turned into way more. I wrote this to sort out my feelings about a break up I just went through. Some of this stuff really happened, some of it did not. My ex never raised a hand at me. He would never do that. I just threw that into the fic to piss Otis off.

As I slipped inside the _Dead End Roadhouse_, the local Ruggsville gritty bar and restaurant, I spotted Otis Driftwood and his much younger sister, Baby Firefly, at the bar. They were facing me but paying attention to the bartender, Sheila, who was making a drink for a customer. Baby was a regular at the establishment. However, Otis was not. He loathed people. He only ventured out into public when Baby whined about how much of a recluse he was and he wanted her to shut her fucking mouth. 

As I slid into the darkest booth in the joint, I hoped the siblings wouldn't notice me. On any other night, I would have sat with them. I had known them for years. We clicked well, but I wasn't in the mood to converse. The only reason I had come into the bar was because my house was within walking distance. My plan was to sip a glass of whiskey without any social interaction before taking the rest of the bottle home to wallow in my own misery.

While I waited for one of the staff to approach, I crossed my arms, bowed my head, and drew designs on the table with my fingertip. My jet black hair shrouded my face, disguising my identity but giving me the advantage to observe the events in the bar if I chose to.

Baby's signature giggle distracted me from my abstract artwork. I peeked at her through my hair just as she gasped and nudged Otis's ribs.

"Otis, look!"

"What?!" he snapped, shooting her the look of death. He hated to be touched, except for by my hand. We shared a passionate past.

"Don't be such a fuckin' grouch." Baby jutted her chin in my direction. "Selene's sittin' all by herself. Wonder why she's doin' that?"

Otis glanced my way. He stroked his gnarly gray beard, his hardened expression softening. "I dunno. That's weird."

"It _is _weird. She always sits with us. Somethin' must be wrong. I'm gonna go talk ta her."

"Great," I said under my breath. I should have known I couldn't fool them. We had partied together for far too long.

Baby started to jump off of her barstool, but Otis gripped her shoulder. 

"No, I'll go. Remember why yer here," he said.

"Fiiiiine," she whined, re-adjusting herself.

Dropping his hand from Baby's shoulder, Otis curled it into a fist and banged on the counter. "Hey, Sheila! Gimme a bottle o' Jack and some ice!"

"I think you got plenty, Driftwood," she refused, motioning to his own bottle.

"Ain't fer me," he growled, his fiery blue eyes flicking to me. "It's fer Selene, who ain't been waited on yet."

Sheila followed his scorching gaze. "Oh, sorry. Sure thing." She fished for a glass of ice and a bottle of Jack Daniels and sat them on the counter.

"Yeah, I bet you _are_ sorry," Baby scolded.

Otis huffed and slammed money down on the bar. Grabbing the items and his own whiskey bottle, he hopped off his barstool and strutted my way.

"Man, he's grumpier than usual. What's 'is problem?" Sheila asked.

"First of all, you assumed shit," Baby retorted, pointing at her. "Second of all, Selene doesn't sit alone. Otis knows somethin's wrong. B'lieve it ot not, but that bothers 'im. He doesn't like it when she's upset. He's real funny 'bout her. They were kinda involved at one time. It was on and off."

"I didn't know that."

"You ain't been workin' here long enough ta know that."

"So they were a couple?"

"Uhh, not exactly. My brother ain't one fer labels. Relationships don't fit 'is lifestyle. Him and Selene just..." Shrugging, Baby blew out a puff of air. "...well, they liked each other and were lovers b'tween her boyfriends."

"I guess this was b'fore Lucian?" Sheila asked.

"Yeah, which was 6 years ago. Otis and Selene have always been friends, though; no matter who she's been with."

"Y'all've known each other a long time, then?"

"Yeah," Baby replied.

Sheila nodded and mixed a drink for another patron. Otis plonked my bottle of Jack and glass of ice into my line of vision and eased in across from me. As he drank from his own bottle, I lifted my sapphire eyes to meet his curious gaze but did not raise my head. I didn't want him to see the bruises on my face.

"Thanks," I muttered. "It's good ta see ya. It's been a couple months."

Otis tipped his head. "Somethin's got yer pretty head all fucked up," he grumbled, reading me like an open book. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a penny and tossed it on the table. The coin spun and landed heads up. "Penny fer yer thoughts, mama."

I shook my head. "You don't wanna hear 'bout my problems."

Otis's eyes flashed, his eyebrows furrowing. Setting his bottle down and placing his palms on the table, he leaned forward. "Who the fuck said that?" He was downright offended.

"You," I claimed. "Yer the one who's always sittin' 'round sayin' ya don't give a fuck 'bout no one but yer family."

He exhaled heavily, his irritable expression draining away. "You _are_ family ta me, Selene. Yer the only real friend I got, which is sayin' a lot. I don't use the word friend lightly, and I certainly don't accept people into the family easily."

"Really?"

"Shit, yeah! Why the fuck ya think I'm even over here?!"

My stone heart morphed into jello. "Thank you. That means a lot. I'm sorry. I'm just crabby and stressed out."

"You look like absolute shit," Otis said bluntly. "There're dark circles under yer fuckin' eyes. When's the last time ya slept?"

"Thanks," I hissed. "Ya know how ta make a woman feel real good."

"Aww, c'mon, mama," he said, his tone losing its roughness. "Ya know I think yer beautiful. I've told ya that a million fuckin' times. Seriously, when's the last time ya got good rest?"

"Umm..." Cracking open my bottle of whiskey, I poured some of the amber liquid into my glass of ice and sipped. "Prolly 'bout a week."

"What the fuck's goin' on?" Otis demanded to know. "What's keepin' ya from sleepin' at night?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but someone deposited a coin into the jukebox. _When I Need You_ by Leo Sayer began playing. Clamping my lips together, I scowled. That was all I needed to hear was some sappy love song.

Groaning, Otis scrubbed his hand over his face. "Ya gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me."

He tossed proverbial daggers at the man at the jukebox, who was feeding more coins into the machine and making more musical selections. Rolling my eyes so hard I was sure I strained the muscles, I gulped whiskey.

"Scoot yer sexy ass the fuck over!" Otis shouted over the annoying music.

I moved as close to the wall as I possibly could. He hopped up and slid into my side. Resting his right arm on the back of the booth, he twisted toward me.

"I knew ya weren't gonna talk over the shitty music, so now ya don't gotta. Wanna tell me what's goin' on now?" he urged.

Staring down at my glass, I blurted, "I dumped Lucian."

"Wait a fuckin' minute! Yer single again?!" Otis exclaimed. "Why? Y'all seemed like you were doin' alright."

"A lot o' reasons." I swirled my glass and nursed my smooth drink.

"Lay it on me, mama."

I sighed. "The Lucian you know and the Lucian I know are two very different people. When he hung around you, Baby, and her daddy, he was sociable. When it was just me and him, he was quiet."

"Prolly the liquor," he pondered. "It makes most folks more sociable."

"Maybe. Things were cool fer the first couple years, but after a while, shit changed. We started fightin' a lot. All we ever fought about was money. He didn't know how ta budget. He blamed me fer all 'is financial problems when I had nothin' ta do with 'em. When he couldn't pay fer shit, it was my fault. He used me as a scapegoat. He's irresponsible, bad with money, and a bit of a mooch. He didn't like ta pay bills. He sure as fuck had 'is cigarettes and grass, though. I got tired o' that shit."

"Sounds like he has a lot o' growin' up ta do," Otis stated.

"That's an understatement," I huffed. 

"Go on. I know ya wanna say more. I can see it."

"Yeah. Lucian would work all day, then come home and fuckin' sleep. I git he was tired or whatever, but I needed attention and affection. He didn't gimme those things. We didn't talk anymore, we didn't fuck anymore...it was like he was my roommate instead o' my partner, except he didn't pay fer shit. I can't even remember the last time I was kissed, like really kissed. And the sex we did have, which was a rare occurrence, was always in the middle of the night, and it was the same every single Goddamn time. He stuck 'is cock in me and that was it. I was 'is personal cum dumpster. He didn't give a fuck if I got off. I was bored shitless.

When I confronted 'im 'bout the lack o' sex, he always had some kinda excuse. He was too tired, stressed out, not in the mood, whatever. I'm starved, and I don't feel attractive anymore. I have no self-esteem. I don't feel pretty or sexy or desirable. I feel fat and ugly and-"

"Woah, woah, woah. Stop a fuckin' minute," Otis ordered, touching my forearm. "That's bullshit. I just said a few minutes ago yer fuckin' beautiful. Did ya not hear me say that?"

"I heard ya. I'm just havin' a hard time b'lievin' it. I told ya I ain't got no self-esteem."

"Selene, you listen real good."

I glimpsed at Otis through my hair, which was still covering my face. His expression was deadly serious, his fiery blue eyes fixated on what he could see of mine.

"I wouldn't o' fucked ya all those times b'tween yer boyfriends if I thought you were unattractive. It's true I set my standards pretty low so I'm never disappointed, but yer drop-dead fuckin' gorgeous. Yer the sexiest woman I've ever been with. I had fun fuckin' you. The sex was phenomenal! Both of us kept comin' back fer more cuz it was so fuckin' good."

"Thank you, but that was over 6 years ago," I pointed out.

"So fuckin' what?! Ya haven't changed a bit. Yer still sexy, yer still gorgeous. Ya ain't fat. I dunno where yer gittin' that shit from. If ya told me ya wanted ta fuck t'night, I'd be all over ya. And I definitely don't understand hoss not wantin' ta kiss ya. Yer a good fuckin' kisser, and ya taste as sweet as fuckin' candy!"

I sighed. "Well, at least someone thinks I'm desirable."

"Yeah, I do think yer desirable. Even after all these years, my cock still stands straight up when I think about bein' with you."

"Ya still think about that?"

"All the fuckin' time." Otis removed his arm from the back of the booth. Slinging it around my shoulders, he leaned in close. "Yer good in the sack, yer pretty, ya got curves in all the right places, yer a good kisser, I like how ya touch me...what's not ta think about? Not ta mention I like yer spitfire personality. Ya don't take shit from no one, not even me."

"Really? I ain't boring?"

He chuckled. "No. Did hoss tell ya that?"

"No, but he sure as fuck made me feel like I was."

"Well, that's bullshit," Otis said, his thumb stroking my upper arm. "Yer the furthest thing from boring."

"There's more."

"I'm listenin', mama."

"I kept warnin' Lucian ta change the oil in the car, but he didn't. I also told 'im ta put coolant in it, but he didn't. In fact, the car kept overheatin' 'til I did it myself. Whatever I told 'im went in one ear and came out the other. It was like what I said didn't matter at all."

"Ya could o' told me. I would o' done it for ya," Otis offered. "Me and RJ always take care o' the family vehicles. Yer part o' the family."

"I thought about it, but I didn't wanna make Lucian mad. It would o' fucked with 'is big ego or some shit. Havin' another man maintain our vehicle?" I tittered. "Yeah, right."

He nodded. "Okay, I git that. But really, that car is _yers_, not his. You bought it, you made the payments, you pay the insurance every month."

"I know, but askin' ya fer help would o' caused problems."

Otis clenched his jaw. "Is there more?"

"Yeah. I wasn't bein' treated like an equal partner. I did everythin' fer that asshole. I washed 'is clothes, did all the grocery shoppin', cooked 'is meals, did all the cleanin'...but that motherfucker claimed I didn't do shit. He didn't appreciate me.

Also, his money was none o' my fuckin' business, but he wanted ta know everything about mine. I was bitter and resentful. Relationship-wise, he's unstable and immature. I outgrew 'im. I feel better now that he's gone, but I'm angry, so fuckin' angry. I wasted 6 years o' my life with that dumb fucker."

Tilting my glass to my lips, I drank heartily. Otis guzzled whiskey like it was going out of style.

"Goin' back ta the no sex thing; I got tired o' bein' rejected, so I stopped tryin'," I griped.

"Wait a fuckin' minute. Lemme git this straight. You were initiatin', but hoss wasn't interested?"

"Yup. You know how much I like cuddlin' and how much I love cock."

"Yeah." Otis snickered. "What a fuckin' moron. You sure he ain't a faggot or somethin'?"

"Positive."

He shook his head. "I don't git it. He had you and wanted no parts o' you? That don't make a lick o' fuckin' sense ta me."

Santana's _Black Magic Woman_ replaced Leo Sayer. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's a much better song," Otis commented, fingering a lock of my hair.

"Yeah. There's one more thing," I whispered. I figured I might as well tell him the rest. "Lucian humiliated me. Ya know I don't take kindly ta that. That was the last straw."

"Oh, you fuckin' hate that, especially in public."

"Yeah, but this didn't happen in public."

Otis's eyes narrowed. "Why do I have the feelin' I ain't gonna like this?"

"Cuz ya ain't." 

I tucked my hair behind my ear, revealing the slight swelling and fading bruises around my eye socket and on my cheek and jaw. Otis's blue eyes filled with pure hellfire. He ground his teeth, his molten gaze melting holes into the seat across from us. 

"I'm gonna fuckin' _kill_ 'im," he vowed, his arm tensing around my shoulders. "I'm gonna torture 'im 'til-"

"Lucian ain't worth all that," I insisted. 

"But you _are_," he snarled.

"Look, he was drunk. We were arguin'. It's the first time he's ever hit me, but I know it was just the beginnin'. He would o' done it again. I called the cops and had 'im arrested fer domestic violence. They gave me an Emergency Protective Order. It lasts fer 7 days, which gave me time ta file a Restraining Order. I did that a few days ago. Lucian can't contact me in any way or be within 300 feet o' me fer the next year. After that, I have the option ta renew the Restraining Order."

"Good. Selene, listen." He rested his forehead against the side of my head and spoke into my ear. "I know I ain't a nice man. I've done a lot o' fucked up shit in my lifetime. You've been around ta witness some of it, but I would _never_-"

"Hurt me? Hit me? I know that, Otis," I said softly.

He caressed the uninjured side of my face. "Now I know why ya wouldn't fully look at me. You were hidin' those fuckin' bruises."

"It's also why I sat by myself in the darkest booth in the bar." I hung my head. "I'm so ashamed. I haven't even gone ta work cuz I'm so mortified."

"Wha'd ya tell yer job?" Otis wanted to know.

"I said I got the flu." I heaved a breath of air. "I ain't never had a man hit me b'fore. I feel so weak and worthless. I _hate_ feelin' like this. I'm pissed at myself fer lettin' it happen."

He cupped my jaw and turned my face to his. "That ain't true. You ain't weak or worthless. I've seen ya beat some serious ass b'fore. Hoss caught ya by surprise, didn't he?"

"Yeah. I can't b'lieve he got over on me like that."

"Fuckin' pussy," Otis spat. "At least I don't attack people when they ain't expectin' it. They always see me comin'." 

"And I _wasn't_ expectin' it. I never thought Lucian would do somethin' like that, but he did. He betrayed my trust. I think he hurt my feelin's more than anything."

I downed the last of the whiskey in my glass and placed it on the table. Most of the ice had melted. Grimacing, I glanced at the bar. Otis followed my reluctant gaze.

"I'll git it for ya. You stay here," he said, tapping the table.

"Thank you."

Otis grunted. Removing his arm from my shoulders, he smoothed my hair and pushed to his feet. As he strolled toward the bar, his usual swagger wasn't prominent. His movements were rigid, his muscles taught. The man was furious. I hoped he didn't take his anger out on Sheila or another customer.

When he reached the bar, he didn't bother to speak to Baby. She had her claws hooked into some dude and was flirting her ass off. He got what he wanted from Sheila and sauntered back over to me.

Otis's volcanic eyes pierced mine deeply, his long, gray hair spilling over his shoulders. I was reminded of how he used to stare at me during intimate moments, how I had played with his hair when we huddled together before and after sex and when we watched TV. I remembered how I had yanked his beard whenever I had kissed his full lips and how much he had enjoyed it. He had liked it when I fisted his hair, too. He had especially gotten a thrill when I had done those things simultaneously. He had loved when I showed him how much I wanted him. He had stressed repeatedly that no one had ever craved him the way I had. Thinking back, I had never craved a man the way I did him.

Every lean muscle rippled under Otis's dingy sleeveless shirt with every agitated step he took, which hugged his upper body superbly. His holey cargo pants hung ridiculously low on his hips, not leaving much to the imagination. I knew what the man's hip lines looked and tasted like, and I was fully aware of the deliciousness which dangled between his legs. 

Tearing my eyes away from him, I licked my lips. Even after all these years, I was still ridiculously attracted to him.

"Fuck me," I breathed, my pussy throbbing.

There were a number of reasons we had never entered a real relationship. Otis was emotionally unavailable except when it came to anger. He had cared about me, probably way more than he was willing to admit to me or himself. He had proven that during our romps in the sack. The way he had touched me and gazed into my soul told me I was special to him. And, he always made sure I got off. Only a man who gives a fuck makes his lover cum.

I had secretly yearned for more than friendship, but relationships weren't for him. Like Baby had told Sheila, Otis disliked labels and relationships didn't fit his odd lifestyle. He liked to come and go as he pleased without explanation. Sometimes, he disappeared for weeks. He had been extremely secretive. He didn't want to be tied down to a woman. He had been perfectly content with our friends-who-fuck arrangement, and I had accepted that.

Otis halted at the edge of the booth and placed a fresh glass of ice and a styrofoam cup full of maraschino cherries in front of me. I gawked at him. He didn't do sweet things like bring women cherries.

"What? I know how much ya like those fuckin' things," he groused. "Don't say I never gave ya nothin'."

"T-thanks," I stammered. Picking one up, I popped it into my mouth. The cherries were soaked in whiskey. I smiled as sugary alcohol coated my tongue. "Oh, that's _good_."

Otis smirked. "Thought ya might like that."

"Are ya tryin' ta git me drunk?" I grinned.

I was well on my way. My entire body was flushed, I was vibrating, and my words were beginning to slur. I had just cracked a joke after God knows how long. It figured Otis would be the one who made me smile again.

He chuckled, showing off his crooked front tooth. "Nah, yer perfectly capable o' doin' that on yer own. I'd say yer halfway there."

As the door to the _Dead End Roadhouse_ squeaked open, I tore my line of sight from Otis. Lucian stumbled inside, wild-eyed and drunker than a skunk.

"Well, look at what the fuck we got here." Otis snickered devilishly. "Hoss just stepped in ta _my_ fuckin' chocolate factory."


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, ain't this fan-fuckin-tastic," I said dryly. "Just the fucker I wanted to deal with."

"Somethin' tells me shit's 'bout ta git real interesting." Smirking, Otis grabbed his whiskey and took a long pull from the bottle. His hand curled around the hilt of the huge hunting knife attached to his belt. 

Lucian scanned the entire bar, scowling once his drunken glower fell upon Otis and I. He stomped towards us, staggering back and forth like the lush he was. Unintimidated, I glared back. Otis beamed as if he were watching a sitcom on television. Every so often, a sinister chuckle slipped out of him.

"That motherfucker's shit-faced. Whatever he drank made 'im grow a steel nutsack. Does he know 'bout our past?" He sat his whiskey bottle on the table.

"Yeah."

"Thought so. He looks jealous as fuck."

Rolling my eyes, I poured whiskey into my glass and chugged it. "That's _his_ problem, not ours. Ain't like we're doin' anything wrong. Even if we were gittin' touchy-feely, I'm single. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

Otis scratched his scruffy jaw. "I hope he ain't stupid enough ta start shit with me." 

"As wasted as he is, I wouldn't put shit past 'im, but he'll prolly start with me."

"That ain't happenin'," he grumbled, giving me a pointed look. "You just sit there like the sexy creature you are. I'll take care o' this."

I shrugged. As Lucian wobbled closer, I poured another drink and munched on a few cherries.

"Ya know that Restraining Order ya got? It's just a piece o' paper," Otis warned. "It ain't gonna help if he attacks while yer alone."

"No, but I can git 'im in trouble and send 'im back ta jail," I stated. "He's prolly out on bail right now. If he tries that, he'll be in deep shit."

We quieted down as Lucian trudged within hearing distance. Otis stepped in front of me to block him. I had a stellar view of his low-waisted pants and perfect ass. His hand tightened around his knife. I could only imagine his hostile expression.

"Git outta my way, Driftwood. I wanna talk ta Selene," Lucian growled.

Otis laughed quietly. "I don't fuckin' think so. You ain't s'pposed ta have any contact with her. She's got a Restraining Order against you. Ya ain't s'pposed ta be within 300 feet o' her, either."

"Goddamn it, Driftwood! Move!"

"Fuck you, motherfucker! I ain't goin' nowhere!"

Lucian ignored Otis and peered around him to address me. "So ya dumped me and put me in jail fer domestic violence, and now yer sittin' in a booth flirtin' with Driftwood? What's that about? Can't keep yer fuckin' legs closed? I should o' known you would run right in ta his arms. Ain't that what ya always do?"

Otis snickered. "I always took real good care o' her needs, unlike yer pathetic ass. I mean, you had this hot piece o' ass shakin' her shit in front o' you, and you weren't gittin' any ideas? Whatta ya call that? She sure held my balls at attention fer years; still does. Why not yers? You sure ya ain't a faggot?"

"Ain't talkin' ta you," Lucian grumbled, his eyes flickering with fury.

"You ain't talkin' ta her, either!" Otis roared. "I won't fuckin' allow it!"

"Fuck off, Lucian!" I hollered. "I'm single! I can do whatever the hell I damn well please! Assume all ya want, but I wasn't flirtin'! Not that I gotta explain myself ta you anymore, but my legs've remained closed!"

Over at the bar, Baby cackled. She was scoping the three of us intensely. The man she was flirting with was super curious as to what was going on as well.

"Let's git somethin' straight, motherfucker!" Otis snapped. "First of all, Selene didn't run in ta my arms. She was sittin' here all alone. _I_ came over ta _her_. We were shootin' the shit. She told me she got rid o' you and why. Second of all, I ain't fucked her. Not yet, but I will. I always do when she's single, but you already know that." He drifted closer to Lucian, staring him in the eye and taunting him. "Don'cha, motherfucker? You know how much I used ta make her moan my name. You know how much she likes my cock. In fact, she prolly thought about fuckin' _me_ while she was in bed with _you_."

Otis wasn't wrong. I had fantasized about him countless times over the last six years while I was fucking Lucian or touching myself. No matter how much I had tried, I couldn't get him out of my head. He was always there, haunting me. Those fiery blue eyes of his and skilled hands and cock consumed my memories and all of my free thoughts. He had possessed me long ago and I couldn't seem to break free. Truthfully, I wasn't sure I wanted to.

"Fuck you, Driftwood!" Lucian bellowed.

"That's what they all say. 'Fuck you!'," Otis mocked.

"Sex with Otis was way better than with you!" I spat. "At least, he knew how ta eat my pussy and make me cum! Oh, and he knew how ta kiss me, too, which was somethin' you fergot how ta do!"

Baby's crazy giggle echoed throughout the bar. "I feel like we're all really gittin' ta know each other now!"

Otis guffawed along with his sister. "Ain't this a fuckin' hoot?!"

"Knock it off, y'all! I don't want no trouble!" Sheila hollered.

No one paid her any mind. It was as if she was invisible.

"Didn't I tell ya ta move outta my fuckin' way?! I wanna talk ta Selene! This ain't yer business, Driftwood!" Lucian barked.

He shoved Otis, whose hair-trigger temper exploded. Snarling, Otis fisted Lucian's shirt. Whirling around, he slammed his backside down onto the table. It splintered under Lucian's weight, who was too drunk to react quickly enough. Whiskey, cherries, and ice rocketed towards me. I gasped as they spilled down the front of my clothes. The glass I had been drinking out of and both whiskey bottles shattered on the floor under the table, covering my shoes and bottom half of my legs with glass.

"Son of a bitch!" I shrieked.

Scrambling out of the booth so I could watch from a safe distance, I shook ice, cherries, excess alcohol, and glass from my body. My lap was saturated. I looked like I had pissed myself.

Otis drove his knee into Lucian's crotch and pressed down on his chest with his right hand. The table groaned under their combined force. His left fist smashed into Lucian's face five times before he yanked his hunting knife from his sheath. It glinted in the dim light as he steered it toward Lucian's throat. Holding it to his windpipe, he bared his teeth like a rabid dog. Slobber seeped from his bottom lip and landed on Lucian's cheek.

Sheila reached for the phone, but Baby produced a handgun and laid it on the counter.

"You touch that fuckin' phone, it'll be the last thing ya ever do," she threatened in an icy tone. "You let my brother deal with that asshole. The pigs don't need ta git involved."

Sheila backed away from the receiver immediately and raised her hands in submission. She knew better than to defy the Firefly family. All the regulars in the bar stared in shock at what was happening in front of them. Otis had a reputation for his nasty temper, but they had never seen him act so violently. I couldn't say the same. I had seen Otis do some unimaginable things in the past.

"Stop, Driftwood," Lucian mumbled. Blood oozed from his eye, nose, and the corner of his mouth and dripped onto the table. "Please, stop."

Otis loomed over top of him, an ominous sneer on his face and a devilish glow in his eyes. "Stop?! Bitch, I have just started! You brought this down on yerself! You don't git ta talk ta Selene no more! You don't git ta harass her or come anywhere near her! You lost those privileges when you put yer fuckin' hands on her! From now on, she's off-limits ta you! She's _my_ business now, not yers! You got that?"

Lucian grunted his agreement.

"I wanna hear ya fuckin' say it!" Otis demanded. Nudging his knife under Lucian's chin a little harder, he drew blood. Crimson liquid trickled down and settled into the hollow of his throat. "Say it or I'll slit yer throat right fuckin' here!"

"Don't underestimate my brother," Baby warned.

"I won't contact her or go near her again," Lucian rasped. "I swear."

"Do NOT fuck with me OR her! I'll b'come yer worst fuckin' nightmare! If I find out yer prancin' around where ya don't b'long, I'll peel yer fuckin' face off and wear it as a fuckin' mask! I'll wear yer skin as a fuckin' costume!" Otis bent down, hissing in Lucian's face. "The boogeyman is real, and you found 'im."

Baby's maniacal giggle echoed throughout the establishment.

"Yer insane," Lucian muttered, his eyes rolling back.

'_You have no idea_,' I thought.

Straightening up, Otis sheathed his knife. "I am the devil, and I am here to do the devil's work," he claimed, his eyes ablaze with wickedness. 

His fist collided with Lucian's face a few more times before he hauled him up by his shirt and tossed him on the floor like a ragdoll. Groaning, Lucian spit out blood and a couple of teeth. His eyelids drooped several times as he fought to stay conscious.

"How's that feel, motherfucker, ta git yer fuckin' face pounded in?" Otis jeered. "Feels fuckin' awesome, don't it? How ya think Selene felt, ya fuckin' pussy?"

Lucian moaned.

"You _ever_ touch Selene again, I will _kill_ you!" Otis vowed. "Git the fuck outta here b'fore I change my mind 'bout lettin' ya go! I don't let motherfuckers go! Do NOT make me fuckin' regret it! And do NOT come back in here _ever_ again! This is _our_ hang out spot!"

Lucian didn't budge. Otis scoffed and reached for the hilt of his knife. I grasped his wrist to stop him. His malice-filled eyes flicked to me. 

"Give 'im a second," I reasoned gently. "You just beat the fuck outta 'im and he's drunk. He needs a minute ta gather 'is bearings. Motherfucker can barely keep 'is fuckin' eyes open." I leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "You can't do what ya wanna do in public. Look at all these witnesses."

Otis's malevolent features softened. Huffing, he wrapped his arm around my waist and drew me into his side. "Yer soaked." He gestured to my wet clothes. "That's my fault."

"It's fine. No big deal." I closed my arm around his backside and rubbed a hand over his lean chest. "My house is two streets away. I can go home and git changed."

"Not without me, ya ain't. I don't want that asshole showin' up on yer doorstep uninvited."

Lucian slowly climbed to his feet, swaying dangerously. As he traveled towards the door, he rocked back and forth with each step. 

"They all run like scared little rabbits. Run, rabbit run. Run, rabbit," Otis teased, snickering. "Run, rabbit. Run, rabbit. RUN, RABBIT, RUN! RUN, RABBIT!"

As Lucian pulled the door open, he glanced over his shoulder.

Baby chimed in from over at the bar. "'Shoo, shoo', said the maiden! 'Come, maiden', said the rabbit. 'Sit on my tail and go with me to my rabbit hutch!'" Her crazy giggle bounced off the walls.

Lucian scowled and wiped excess blood from his face with the back of his hand. He did not appreciate being humiliated. Spitting bloody saliva onto the floor, his drunken gaze flickered to me.

"_My_ business, _not_ yers!" Otis reminded him, his arm tightening around my waist. "This ain't over, motherfucker!"

Once the door closed behind Lucian, Otis jutted his chin toward the bar. "Let's git another bottle o' whiskey and git ya home so you can change," he suggested.

"Alright," I agreed. "It's a shame those cherries spilled. They were good."

"I'll git ya some more."

I smiled. Otis led me over to the bar by the small of my back. Everyone gawked at us nervously except Baby, who clapped. "Woohoo! That's how ya put someone in their place!"

I leaned on the counter next to Baby, who laid her hand on my shoulder.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked, her voice holding genuine concern.

"I will be. I just need time," I replied.

"Otis'll take care o' ya." 

I nodded. He always did. 

"Shit's gonna be alright." Baby pulled my hair behind my back, combed her fingers through it carefully, and began to loosely braid it.

Otis ordered Sheila around, who rushed to give him what he wanted. After what she had witnessed, she was terrified of him and his sister and had every right to be. She placed an unopened bottle of Jack and a jar of maraschino cherries into a brown paper bag, then set the items on the counter.

"No charge," Sheila insisted, swiping her hand through the air. "Just take it."

Otis shrugged and grabbed the bag. "Ain't gonna argue with that."

"Are we cool?" Baby asked the freaked-out bartender. "I still wanna party, and I like it here. I don't wanna have ta find another place ta hang out."

"We will be if you put that gun away," Sheila declared.

"I can do that." Grasping the gun, she tucked it into her waistband.

"Come on, mama. Let's go," Otis urged.

"Y'all comin' back?" Baby wanted to know.

Otis glanced at me. I shook my head.

"Not t'night," he answered. "You have fun. Selene can bring me home later."

"Okay!" Baby giggled.

Otis clasped my elbow and guided me to the exit. As he opened the door, one of the staff rolled out a mop bucket to clean up the mess Otis had made when he had knocked the ever-living shit out of Lucian. The employee also had a broom and dustpan. 

Otis ushered me outside. The door banged shut behind us. He scanned for Lucian, who was nowhere in sight.

"Motherfucker better listen," he hissed.

I grunted. Taking my elbow, he escorted me towards my house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, so before y'all read this chapter, I want y'all to know the Otis in this chapter is a bit mellower than the Otis you're used to seeing. People who haven't seen 3 From Hell might think I'm writing him soft, but in that film, he's more introspective. He's older and wiser, but he's still Otis. Prison will do that to a person. If you have a good understanding of character development, you'll realize this is a side of Otis that's only possible with the one he truly loves. Also, this fic was written to try and help me work through a break-up I went through in August, so these are things I want from a man. I just used Otis's character to give my ofc those things.

The only sounds on our walk back to my place were the song of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. We were quiet until we were a few houses away. 

"I'm sorry," Otis blurted, breaking our silence.

Scrunching my eyebrows together, I looked at him like he had lost his ever-loving mind. He never apologized or admitted fault for anything. Plus, I didn't understand _why_ he was sorry.

"Fer what?" I wanted to know.

He sighed. "You hate attention and the whole fuckin' bar was starin' at us. I humiliated you. I didn't even think. I lost my fuckin' shit and showed my fuckin' ass ta everyone. I should o' dealt with hoss privately. What I did wasn't very fuckin' smart."

I shook my head. "Ain't yer fault. Lucian started that shit, not you. He shoved you first. All ya did was defend me and yerself. You didn't humiliate me, he did. He's the one who basically called me a whore in front o' the whole bar."

Otis scoffed. "No shit." He gripped my shoulder and leaned in close to make his point. "You ain't a whore." He grinned mischievously. "Used ta be _my_ whore, but it didn't go no further than that. You've never been anyone else's whore. Just mine."

I smiled brightly. I most certainly had been his whore. In the past, I had done whatever he had desired, and I didn't regret one single second of it. 

"To be honest," I continued. "In that kinda situation, I would o' lost my shit, too. I think anyone would o'. Prolly not quite as bad as _you_ did, but shit would o' went down. I mean, I don't see myself brandishin' a knife, but there definitely would o' been a fight." 

"That's my lil hellcat," he said proudly. 

Sliding his hand down my arm, Otis laced his fingers with mine. Giving my hand a light squeeze, he rubbed my skin with his thumb. I glanced down as he let go. His knuckles were stained with Lucian's blood.

I blew out a puff of air. "Man, I need ta smoke some grass."

"You got some at the house?" he inquired hopefully.

"Yeah. It's Lucian's. All 'is shit is still there cuz o' the Restraining Order."

"Good. I could use some ta calm the fuck down. I'm still a lil pissed off," he grumbled. "Maybe I'll smoke it all just ta spite 'im."

"I hear ya. I'm sure that fucker'll eventually arrange ta come git 'is shit. He's just gotta git a cop ta come with 'im."

"That ain't happenin' without me around," Otis insisted. "No fuckin' way."

My jaw dropped. "But you hate cops!"

"I don't give a fuck. That asshole ain't comin' 'round unless _I'm_ there," he said firmly.

"Yer awful protective all of a sudden," I said softly.

"Selene..."

Grabbing my wrist, Otis halted. I faced him. His expression morphed from frustrated to melancholy to passionate and back to frustrated. He had something to say and didn't know how to start.

"Somethin' on yer mind?" I pressed gently.

He huffed. "Yeah, you could say that." 

"Take yer time. I'm listenin'."

"Okay, look." Otis's forehead puckered. "I'm 'bout ta lay some heavy shit out on the fuckin' table. I don't do that, but there's somethin' you need ta know."

"Alright," I muttered.

"I never said it in the past cuz I don't talk about shit like this, but I care about you. And, I care about what happens ta you, too. I thought shit was okay b'tween you and hoss. That's why I backed off, but I always back the fuck off when ya have a boyfriend. I thought shit was alright, and it wasn't, and I'm sorry fer not knowin' or bein' around more. I should o' been. And, I should o' been payin' closer fuckin' attention. Maybe I would o' noticed shit was off. Maybe I could o' prevented this bullshit." Scowling, he brushed his thumb over a yellowed bruise on my cheekbone. "This fuckin' shit should o' never happened, Selene." Clenching his jaw, he swiped his hand through the air. "_Never_."

"Baby, stop," I said under my breath. "This ain't-"

As Otis ran his fingertip down my jawline, I shut my mouth. Closing my eyes, I drew in air and let it out slowly. 

"You ain't called me that in a long time. Not since the last time we hooked up b'fore that motherfucker started comin' around," he murmured.

Oh, how I had missed Otis's touch. Whether he was tender or rough, he always knew exactly what I needed. Without opening my eyes, I stepped into his personal bubble, closed my arms around his waist, and rested my head on his shoulder. He embraced me tightly, the brown paper bag in his fist settling against my ass. 

Nuzzling his scruffy jaw, I savored his musty scent. His job as the Firefly family rancher made him smell like an old barn, livestock, leather, grass, and hay. Sometimes, there was an addition of motor oil, but not tonight.

"I've missed ya _soooo_ much," I whispered, opening my eyes. 

"Me too, mama." Cradling my head, Otis gazed into my soul. "I could o' hurt ya back there when I lost my shit. I'm sorry."

"But ya didn't. It's okay."

"No, it ain't." 

He shook his head, his long hair grazing my face. Pushing it over his shoulder, I burrowed my nose further into his gnarly beard. 

"Stop blamin' yerself. None o' this is yer fault," I said softly.

His only response was a sullen grunt.

Maybe Lucian was right; maybe I _did_ always run back to Otis. I had been single for a week, and I was already in his arms. But next to Otis was where I was comfortable. Being held by him made me feel like nothing or no one could hurt me. I could express myself freely without repercussions. He was one of the few people on the planet who understood me. 

I backed away slightly. "We should go. I'm gittin' ya all wet."

Otis's full lips curled into a genuine smile. His crooked front tooth and blue eyes shined in the moonlight. Hovering closely enough that his warm breath drafted over my face, he drawled, "I've been soiled by much worse. A little whiskey ain't gonna fuckin' kill me."

My heart fluttered and my stomach flip-flopped. Grinning back, I moved out of his embrace and turned toward my house before I kissed him. He gave my hand another squeeze, but this time he didn't pull away. We walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

Arriving at my front door, I removed my key from my pocket and unlocked it. After we shuffled inside, I turned on the light and locked the door securely.

Otis jacked his thumb toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna go take care o' this." He held up the brown paper bag.

Setting my key in a bowl on a table, I glanced down at my wet clothes. "I'm gonna go change."

Without a word, he roamed toward the kitchen. I made my way beyond the living room, down the hall, and into my bathroom. Closing the door, I stripped and tossed my clothes in the hamper. My body was a little sticky from the cherries. Turning on the hot water, I grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed clean. Once I was finished, I eased the door open and darted across the hallway into my bedroom.

I caught a glimpse of Otis out of the corner of my eye. He was seated on the couch, his eyes fixated on the TV. His shirt was missing, his bare feet were propped up on the coffee table, and he was destroying a giant piece of chocolate cake. He had helped himself, but I didn't mind. He always made himself at home. Even when Lucian lived with me, Otis had done whatever he damn well pleased and dared him to try and stop him with an intimidating glare.

Picking up the thin black cotton nightgown I had worn the night before, I slipped it on. It had spaghetti straps, showed my cleavage nicely, and came down to the middle of my thigh. I didn't bother to put on panties. What was the point in covering anything? It wasn't like Otis didn't know what I looked like naked. The man knew every intricate detail of my body like the back of his hand.

Exiting my bedroom, I padded down the hallway and into the living room. As soon as Otis heard my footsteps, he shoved the last bite of cake into his mouth and brushed his hands off onto a paper towel in his lap. Placing his feet on the floor, he bunched up the paper towel and dropped it on the coffee table. 

Clutching the whiskey bottle, he leaned back into the couch cushions, and scanned my entire body from head to toe. He moistened his lips, his eyes sparkling with lust. Opening his legs and shifting his hips, he guzzled whiskey. The bloodstains on his knuckles were gone. He must have washed his hands while he was in the kitchen.

"What're ya watchin'?" I inquired.

"_Dr. Wolfenstein's Double Creature Feature._ It's Saturday night." 

"I should o' known. What's playin'?"

"_Night of the Living Dead_. _Nosferatu _is next."

"Groovy." I plopped down next to him. "Ya took off yer shirt."

"Yeah, it was wet. I don't need it anyway. Tu casa es mi casa."

"Si," I replied, giggling.

Otis grinned and took another swig from the bottle. While pulling the bottle from his lips, he accidentally dripped whiskey on his lean chest. 

I laughed quietly. "Ya got whiskey and cake crumbs on yer chest."

His intense gaze flicked to the thin patch of chest hair that covered his flying skull tattoo. "Oh."

"I got it." 

I wet my fingertip with a spot of whiskey on his chest and dabbed up the crumbs. Taking a peek at Otis's crotch, I noticed his pants were unfastened. His belt and knife were missing as well. 

"Here." I raised my finger to his lips. 

He parted them, his firey eyes focused on my own. His tongue coiled around my finger, giving me flashbacks of how he had sucked my nipples and clit in the past. As my finger departed from his mouth, he gently bit my fingertip.

_'Jesus, this sexy motherfucker,'_ I thought, my pussy throbbing.

"G-got crumbs on yer face, too," I stammered.

Grunting, Otis combed his fingers through his mustache and beard. Again, I doused my finger with whiskey, sopped up the crumbs, and fed them to him. He sucked hard on my finger, my clit thumping in response.

"Did ya buy that cake or make it?" he asked.

"Baked it from scratch," I replied.

"Thought so. It was way too fuckin' good ta be store-bought."

I smiled. "Thank you."

Otis had dumped some maraschino cherries in a small plastic container and soaked them in whiskey. He had also poured me a drink. Scooping up the container from the table, I popped a cherry into my mouth.

"You said ya had no self-esteem? If it's validation you require, I got it right fuckin' here, mama," he husked. 

Shoving his hand inside his pants, he gripped his cock. His erection strained against his drawers, begging to be freed. Gulping, I stared deep into his eyes.

"Yer fuckin' sexy. I wanna lick yer whole fuckin' body, then fuck ya 'til ya drench my cock," he added.

My cheeks flushed. Grinning, I picked up my drink and sipped.

"Lemme see those Goddamn things." Otis swiped the cherry container from my hand. "Can't drink and feed yerself at the same time, can ya?"

"I guess not."

He nestled the whiskey bottle between his thighs. "Open up, mama."

I parted my lips. He pushed a cherry into my mouth. As I chewed, he outlined my lips with his fingertip. I washed down the cherry with my drink. He fed me another cherry and another, repeating the action of touching my mouth. 

Otis's pupils were blown. It was clear he wanted me. He had even said as much, but I wasn't ready for that yet. He understood that, which was why he hadn't tried to kiss me. I had told him I was starved for affection, and I had meant it. He knew I needed that before the progression of any kind of sexual activity, kissing included. He was also aware I would let him know when I was ready to move forward.

Finishing my drink, I sat my glass on the coffee table. I twisted toward Otis, who chugged more alcohol.

"Will you..." I trailed off, my cheeks reddening.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What?"

"Will ya hold me?"

"If that's what ya need, ya know I'll do it."

"It is."

"You've blushed twice now," Otis pointed out. "Ya never used ta do that. Has hoss got yer head so fucked up that yer awkward about compliments and afraid ta ask fer what ya want?"

"I dunno. Seems that way." I hung my head. "I hate who I've b'come."

"Baby..." Otis tucked my hair behind my ear and traced the curve with his fingertip. "Don't let 'im do that. Don't ya let that motherfucker change who you are. I know what that feels like. He don't deserve that satisfaction. I was severely abused as a child. You know that. It fucked with me fer a long time 'til I realized it wasn't my fault. Now I'm just insane. 

Wanna know what life has taught me? We all git fucked in the end, no matter what. Ya gotta let the past go. It ain't important. Right now, the future is the two of us. Me and you, we can do whatever we want in this crazy, fucked up world, make it ours."

"Ya think so?"

"Fuck yeah! I know it!"

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I bobbed my head.

"Back ta what I was sayin' 'bout the whole blushin' thing. You don't gotta be embarrassed 'bout nothin' or scared ta ask me fer shit. Don't I always give ya what ya need or want?" 

I nodded.

"Have I ever made ya feel shitty 'bout any of it?"

"No."

"And I never will," Otis promised.

Placing the cherries and whiskey bottle on the table, he relaxed into the couch and invited me into his arms. I scooted as close to him as I could and snuggled into his side. He embraced me and exhaled blissfully. 

"Hoss still got a key?" he wanted to know, rubbing his hands up and down my body.

"I have it. The cops hauled 'im off without it. He had 'is wallet and that was it."

"Good. Don't need no fuckin' surprises."

I grunted.

"Still feelin' starved fer affection? You mentioned that earlier."

"Not as much."

"Good." Otis kissed my head. After a minute of staring at the movie and stroking my hair, he mumbled, "I was stupid. And wrong, so fuckin' wrong."

Furrowing my brow, I gazed up at him. "Whattaya mean?"

"All those years I was fuckin' you, but I didn't wanna take that next step. I don't like relationships or labels."

"It's okay, Otis." I grazed his belly hair. "I git it."

"No, it ain't okay. And ya don't git it." He laced his fingers with mine and peered into my soul. "I'm 'bout ta make myself real vulnerable, so just listen."

"Okay."

Letting go of my hand, Otis caressed my face. "I couldn't git someone better than you if I tried. Yer everythin' I ever wanted in a woman, everythin' I _ever_ wished for. I was afraid you were too good to be true. I didn't wanna show ya the real me. I kept secrets from you. A lot of 'em, but I'm done with that shit."

Hearing him say he was afraid of anything shocked me, but I didn't show it. "I know who ya are," I said.

"No, ya only know part of it. I was scared if ya knew the whole truth, you'd run away and I'd never see ya again. I'm still terrified that could happen."

"I know more than ya think."

Otis chuckled dryly. "I seriously doubt that."

"I've seen the bloodstains on yer clothes, the dried blood under yer fingernails. I've watched the missin' person reports on TV, noticed how they always seem ta disappear near Cutter's museum. I've seen yer fucked up temper, the people ya've taunted and beat within an inch o' their life. I've even seen ya torture someone and laugh about it."

He arched a brow.

"T'night, ya told Lucian you would kill 'im. Ya meant it, I know that. If we weren't in public, ya would o' done it. I know yer a killer. I've been in Cutter's museum. I've seen yer artwork in there. Yer whole family, yer all killers. Every single one o' y'all. T'night, Baby was at the bar baggin' a victim. You just came along fer the ride and cuz she was prolly whinin' 'bout how much of a recluse ya are."

Otis's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "How long have ya known??"

"Not sure."

"How long?!" he demanded to know.

I ran my hand over his chest. "A long time. I'm not even sure how long anymore. I lost count o' the years."

"But you ain't like us! How come ya haven't turned the other fuckin' way and ran fer yer life? What made ya decide ta keep mine and my family's sinister secrets?"

"Earlier, you said ya cared fer me. Well, I care fer you, too. I'll harbor yer secrets 'til the day I die," I vowed. "I don't care what ya do or have done."

"Uhh..." Otis released a snicker and shook his head. "I'm sure there are some things I've done that would fuck with ya."

"Try me," I challenged.

"Well..." He scratched his bearded chin. "What if I said I was a sadist?"

I rolled my eyes. "Duh!"

He laughed, the age lines around his eyes deepening. "Okay, that one was a lil obvious."

"Ya don't say?" I smirked.

"Alright. What if I told ya I rape my victims?"

"Considerin' what I know 'bout yer fucked up childhood and yer temper, I'm not surprised. Just don't rape _me_."

"I would never do that. I don't wanna hurt you. I care about you, remember?"

I nodded. "Throw me another bone."

"Hmm...okay. Try this one out. What would ya say if I told ya I fuck dead bodies?"

I blinked a few times. "Necrophilia?" I clarified.

"Yeah." 

"Whatever gits yer rocks off. Everyone has different fetishes." I twirled his hair in my fingers. "I don't git it, but hey; it's yer fetish, not mine."

"Wow," he marveled. "I thought that would git ya runnin' fer sure. Ya know how ya said hoss used ya as 'is personal cum dumpster, and how ya said ya got tired o' bein' rejected?"

"Mmm, hmm."

"That's why I fuck corpses," Otis explained. "So I ain't gotta deal with that shit. And I don't gotta hear no complainin', whinin', or screamin'. I can use 'em 'til they ain't usable anymore. It's a release, nothin' more."

"I never rejected ya in the past."

"No, ya didn't." Throwing his head back, he laughed heartily. "I can't b'lieve yer not freakin' the fuck out! Any normal person shouldn't be alright with any o' this shit!"

"Necrophilia is a fetish. An extreme one, but still a fetish nonetheless. Did ya fuck any corpses t'day?" I asked.

"Yeah, one, but I showered b'fore I left the house. Didn't wanna go out in public smellin' like death. That would raise suspicion."

"Indeed, it would."

"Don't need ta go to the fuckin' clink."

"No," I agreed. "I gotta weird question. You don't gotta answer if ya don't wanna."

"I'm done hidin' shit from you," Otis said.

"Okay, good. Do ya fuck all their holes?"

"Uhh, yup."

"But don't folks lose their bowels when they die?"

"Not always. It depends on what's in their system. It can happen right away, or it happens later cuz o' the decomposition process. Gas buildup is a definite factor."

"But there's no natural lubrication," I pondered.

Otis snickered. "That's what spit or a bottle o' lube is for."

"Have ya ever been shit on?"

He laughed. "Yeah, sure I have. Now, how 'bout we git off this subject and smoke that grass?"

My eyes narrowed. "I thought you were done hidin' shit from me?"

"I _am_," Otis swore. "I just think it's better fer ya ta keep yer pretty lil head full o' puppy dogs and kitty cats fer the time bein'."

"I ain't innocent, ya know."

"I know that." Sighing, he patted my knee. "Don't worry, mama. In time, I'll tell ya all about what you wanna know all about in vast detail. Just not now. I've told ya a lot already. I don't wanna overwhelm ya with _all_ my devilish activities."

In other words, he was still terrified I would run away. He just didn't wanna say that. He had made himself vulnerable enough already.

I shrugged. "Okay. Just one more question."

He tipped his head.

"Do ya think 'bout me while ya fuck corpses?" 

"All the fuckin' time, mama. Now be a good girl and git that grass," Otis said softly.

I dug into the drawer on the end table and handed him a bag of weed, a lighter, and some rolling papers. He took enough grass out of the baggie to roll a decent sized joint and began to break it up on the coffee table. While he put the joint together, I sunk into the couch, stared at the horror film on TV, and reflected on what he had told me.

Otis was right. I shouldn't be okay with anything he had confessed to, but I cared about him and was willing to overlook all of it. I had known he was a killer for a long time. That never really bothered me. Killing was something he did to free himself of rage, which he had a lot of buried inside. The rest of what he had told me was just who he was. Sadism and rape were for fun and humiliation, necrophilia was a release. Even murdering was probably for entertainment.

I had always known Otis wasn't a nice man, but he was decent to me. If I wanted to continue our...whatever this was because it was certainly more than friendship, I would have to get used to all of his flaws and ugliness. It was a lot to digest, but as long as he didn't hurt me, why should I care? 

Oh, right. Because my moral compass told me I should. Well, fuck my moral compass. I cared about Otis and needed him in my life, and that was all there was to it.

Exhaling heavily, I traipsed my fingertip down Otis's spine. He glimpsed at me over his shoulder, his hair tumbling down his backside. His eyes were full of passion.

"Ya alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just..." I smoothed his hair. "The whole time I was with Lucian or whatever dude I was with in the past..."

Otis licked the rolling paper to glue it, then settled back into the couch and sparked the doober. I had a flashback of him eating my pussy while he stared up at me.

"I never stopped thinkin' 'bout you. You were always on my mind. I always wondered where ya were, what ya were up to, shit like that. I always missed ya, no matter what. My soul...it ached."

"Call me insane, most folks do; I even call myself insane, but that sounds like love ta me," he stated, puffing on the joint. "I might not o' had much o' that in my life, but I know what love is."

"Maybe I'm the crazy one," I mulled. "I think it's sexy when yer pissed off. Everythin' ya do is hot as fuck. Maybe it _is_ love. I mean, no matter what kinda fucked up shit ya tell me, I'm alright with it. I shouldn't be, but I am. I accept ya fer who ya are."

"Acceptance. Don't git that too much," he commented.

Otis handed me the doober. Throwing his arm around my shoulders, he turned toward me and laid his hand on my thigh. I hit the joint, well aware that he was staring at me.

"Just thought o' one more thing I gotta tell ya," he said.

I rolled a shoulder as if to say, "G'head."

"I'm a cannibal," Otis blurted. "That's partly how we git rid o' the bodies. Sometimes we burn 'em. I make art and furniture out o' their bones, too."

I didn't bat an eye. "Like I said, I been in Cutter's museum. Technically, cannibalism isn't illegal. Murder, yes. Possession of human tissue or a body, yes. Actual consumption of human flesh, no."

He gazed at me in awe and massaged my thigh. "Woah. You really are too good ta be true." 

Shrugging, I hit the joint again. 

"Well, I'm 'bout ta throw shit on the table again. Now that ya know everythin', I wanna take that next step. I don't like labels, but I want us ta b'long to each other," he said under his breath. "I love ya; always have. I just stayed at a distance cuz I was afraid ya'd hate me if ya knew who I really was. Usually, I don't give a fuck who hates me, but yer different. It would break my black fuckin' heart. Well, the tiny one I got anyway; the one I reserve fer you and the rest o' my family, that is."

My eyes widened. I hit the joint too hard and choked on smoke. All this time, he had wanted the same things I did. Waving the smoke out of our faces, I pushed the joint into his fingertips. As I continued to cough, he inhaled and blew out a massive cloud. Reaching for the ashtray on the table, he tapped ash into it.

"Selene?"

"Yeah?" My voice was strained from all the coughing.

"Ya alright? Yer coughin' yer pretty lil head off."

I nodded. Pinching the joint between his lips, Otis handed me the whiskey bottle. I drank to soothe my burning throat. The alcohol helped a little. I tried to talk but ended up coughing again. He hit the doober deeply. Smoke billowed from his mouth and nostrils like a dragon who breathed fire.

"Just take it easy fer a minute," Otis advised. "Think I might o' shocked ya a bit with my lil love confession. Which, by the way, was nowhere near as bad as the other shit I told ya."

I bobbed my head. He had indeed stunned me, but I didn't want him to think I wasn't interested in a relationship. 

"While I'm confessin' ta shit, might as well tell ya yer the one who taught me what love is. Real love, I mean, not platonic. My family taught me that."

After another swig from the bottle, I placed it on the table. Facing him, I immersed my hand into his grizzly beard.

"Love is blind, Otis," I murmured, combing my fingers through his long hair. "I think that's why I don't give a fuck 'bout none of it. As long as ya don't do that shit ta me, then I'm good with it."

"Shit, fuck," he said in a sultry tone, his eyes glimmering.

The ghoul in front of me knew what touching his beard led to.


	4. Chapter 4

Otis dropped the joint in the ashtray and gripped the back of my neck. I yanked his beard to bring his face closer to mine. Growling lowly, he bared his teeth.

"Amin naa tualle," I breathed against his lips.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Otis murmured, his scorching blue eyes searching my soul.

"I am yer servant in Elvish."

"Not even gonna ask how ya learned that cuz I already know. I've seen yer Tolkien book collection."

Smiling, I rubbed the tip of my nose against his. "Yeah, that's me; trash fer Tolkien." 

Otis brushed his lips over mine. "Yer a book nerd, period. I like that about you." 

"Mmm, hmm. You like ta read, too."

"I do." Otis grinned devilishly. "You sure yer up fer the challenge o' bein' my servant?" He shook his head. "I don't think you are. T'night, I'll be _yer_ servant. Not in the sense that ya git ta tell me what ta do. You'll never git ta order me around, but I'll fuck ya real good; just the way ya like it."

I smiled coyly. "What if I wanna be on top?"

He chuckled. "Mama, you can have whatever ya want. You wanna ride my cock, fine. You wanna be kissed, I'll do it. You want me ta dine on yer delicious pussy, I will. You want me ta fuck ya nice and slow and deep, I'll make it happen. You want me ta fuck yer brains out, you got it. You want passion, you can have it. I'll give ya whatever the fuck ya want. Tell me what ya want, and it's game on."

"What if I wanna blow ya?"

"Like I said, whatever the fuck ya want. Although..." He raised an eyebrow. "...that _does_ sound pretty Goddamn good."

"I just want you. I want _all_ o' you. I want yer heart, Otis; yer mind, yer soul," I said in a small voice.

"You have 'em. Ya've always had 'em," he pledged. "I told ya I loved ya. That includes all those things."

"Let's git serious fer a second." Releasing my hold on his beard, I backed away slightly and swept his hair over his shoulder. 

Otis relocated his hand from my neck to my thigh and tilted his head to the side. A strand of hair fell over his face. I delicately tucked it behind his ear.

"I thought we already _were_ bein' serious. Can't git much more serious than me sayin' I love ya." 

"This is a lil different." 

He nodded. "Alright. What's on yer mind?"

"This kinda shit ain't you. Love includes happiness, which you live ta shatter. Didn't ya once say yer Satan's Destroyer?"

"I _am_ Satan's Destroyer! I am the eternal flame o' salvation burnin' through yer life, yer liberty, and yer pursuit o' fuckin' happiness!" Otis claimed, his eyes igniting with more hellfire than I had ever seen. He sighed, the glow in his eyes receding. "Look. I might've been born ta do the Devil's work, but I ain't a demon. At least, not yet I ain't. As a human being, I'm capable o' love."

"Well..." I clicked my tongue. "I can't argue with that. That's a good point."

"But yer right; this kinda shit ain't me. However..." He held up his index finger. "...we're talkin' 'bout me..." He tapped his chest, then mine. "...and you. Not the rest o' this fucked up world, which needs ta be annihilated by _my_ hand. I suggest those motherfuckers git ready ta burn."

I grunted. 

"Selene, as I said earlier..." Otis's fingertip grazed the tip of my nose. "..._you_ taught me what love is. _You_ make me happy. I wanna make you happy, too. I wanna give you what that motherfucker couldn't. I wanna give you what ya deserve, what ya _need_. I know how ta do that. I did it in the past, I can do it again, but this time I ain't gotta hold back. Do ya have any idea how much tension that's gonna relieve fer me? I been holdin' this shit in fer years."

"I know. Me, too." I released a heavy breath. "Ain't some part o' ya afraid this could be a rebound on my part? I mean, I just came outta a long term relationship. This ain't in no way a rebound, but-"

Otis laughed softly. "That's a fair question, but no. I see the way ya look at me, how ya've _always_ looked at me." He caressed my cheek. "The way yer lookin' at me right now."

"I just don't want ya ta think-"

"I know what I know, and I know this ain't some fuckin' rebound. I don't doubt you." Otis tipped his head. "Don't ferget, I _know_ you."

"Okay, good."

"We done jawin' now? Cuz I wanna git ta what ya need." 

Leaning in close, he gazed into my eyes and waited for my approval. Slightly tilting my head to the side, I planted a feathery kiss on the groove above his lips. Even though the small area was covered by his thick, untrimmed mustache, it was an erogenous zone. As the tip of my tongue nudged his upper lip, a ragged breath escaped him. 

My minuscule action was all the permission Otis required. Grasping the back of my neck, he gently nibbled my bottom lip. I had forgotten how velvety smooth his lips were. As they moved over mine, his facial hair tickled my skin. I loved that feeling. The prickly sensation made kissing him even more pleasurable.

I immersed my hand into his beard for the second time, holding his face to mine. He delivered a tender bite to my top lip. My mouth opened in a soft moan. He suckled my lip to soothe it. Lingering, he darted the tip of his tongue out to meet mine in an intimate caress. His tongue delved deeper inside my mouth, tasting me hungrily. 

Heat bloomed in my chest and spread throughout my body like burning brush in a forest fire. To kiss him again was something I had desperately desired for far too long. Threading my hand into his hair, I slid the silky strands between my fingers. 

Ending the kiss, I stared into the blue abyss which contained his blackened soul. "Otis?"

"Yeah?" he husked, his thumb sliding against my hairline.

"Yer not close enough."

His hooded eyes darkened. "Tell me what ya want, mama."

"I wanna sit on yer lap."

"C'mon, then." 

Otis patted his thigh. I hoisted my body over his and straddled him. Gathering his bushy face in my hands, I delivered a searing kiss to his welcoming lips. As my groin settled on top of his, his cock twitched.

Sliding his hands up my thighs, he slipped them under my nightgown. I clasped his shoulders, kneading the muscles gently. Our tongues coiled together, and the pace of our breathing escalated. As my fingertip grazed his earlobe, he groaned and pressed his erection into my inner thigh.

Recalling how much of a thrill he received from having his ears touched, I abandoned his mouth to kiss across his shoulder and up his neck. I stopped just below his earlobe, breathing on it softly. My hands glided over his lean chest, my fingertips playing with the small patch of hair in the middle.

"Selene..." Otis panted. 

"I gotcha, baby."

Kissing his earlobe, I used my tongue to draw it into my mouth. Sampling tenderly, I prodded with my tongue. My fingertips traced the curve of his other ear. He gasped and goosebumps lit up his entire body. Lifting my nightgown, he clenched my bare ass. 

"Shit, fuck, no fuckin' panties," he marveled.

Snickering, I kissed up his bearded jaw to his mouth. "Push yer pants down."

I raised my hips so Otis could shimmy out of his bottom layer of clothing. Once it was around his knees, I glanced down at his lap. His swollen cock was pointed at the ceiling and slightly curved toward his abs. As I gazed into his smoldering eyes, he undid the messy braid Baby had weaved into my hair at the bar. 

"Have I ever told ya, outta all the cocks I've seen or fucked, yers is my favorite?" I asked.

"No," he muttered.

"It's beautiful. It hits all the right spots inside me and tastes like no other."

"I think that might be cuz ya love me. Ya ain't actually said it yet, but I know ya do."

I nodded. Our lips met in a sensual kiss. Lowering my hips, I rubbed my pussy lips over the length of his shaft and released a breathy moan.

"Yer already soppin' fuckin' wet," Otis murmured.

"Yeah, but I don't wanna fuck yet. I wanna blow ya first. Even if it's just fer a minute, I wanna feel yer cock in my mouth again. Ya said that sounded pretty good, right?"

Grunting his approval, he drug the straps to my nightgown down my arms. The cotton garment fell down around my hips, revealing my full breasts and stiff nipples. He gulped, his fiery eyes scanning my body greedily.

"I don't care what ya say. Yer fuckin' gorgeous. Yer the sexiest woman in the whole fuckin' world ta me," Otis claimed. "That motherfucker's outta his mind, not wantin' ta fuck ya no more. He needs 'is Goddamn head examined."

Cupping my tits, he coasted his thumbs over my nipples. My head rolled back as he trailed kisses between my breasts, up my sternum, and over to my collarbone. He gnawed lightly before sucking on my neck. Leaving his brand, he kissed over my throat. 

"Selene..." Grabbing my hair, he yanked my face to his. "I own you now. No other motherfucker gits ta touch ya ever again; just like no other bitch gits ta touch me. You got that?" 

My eyes narrowed. "Does that include victims and corpses?" I hissed.

"I won't use my body anymore. I don't need to," Otis promised, his eyes holding truth.

"I can deal with that. Let my hair go so I can make ya feel good."

Satisfied with my response, he dropped his hand. As I moved off of his lap and onto my knees, I kissed down his chest and belly. His hard breaths and low moans made me wetter than I already was. Relaxing into the cushions, he watched through hooded eyes as my tongue swirled around his belly button.

My short nails traced down Otis's happy trail, stopping just before I hit his groin. His sex lines had always been a hot point for him. Retracing my steps with my fingertips, I licked a V from one hip down to his pubes and up to his other hip, then repeated the action.

"Christ," Otis snarled, a bead of pre-cum dripping down his shaft.

Curling my hand around his cock, I caught the dribble with the tip of my tongue and licked up to the head. That sweet taste of his made me whine. He moaned, his cock twitching.

I took my time with his inner thighs, clawing his skin, teasing him with barely-there kisses, and sucking marks into his flesh. He maintained eye contact as much as possible, his chest rising and falling with anticipation.

When Otis had enough of my teasing, he fisted my hair. I automatically opened my mouth, allowing him to feed me his cock. His essence hit my tongue, and I groaned. He growled and snapped his hips, his cock slipping further into my mouth. His free hand caressed my jaw, his thumb easing my mouth open even more so he could push the head into the back of my throat.

"That's my lil hellcat," he husked. "Show me how good of a cocksucker you are."

Obeying, I sucked lightly. I didn't want him to cum; I simply wanted to taste him and give him a good show. He admired the way my lips stretched around his cock, his sounds of pleasure filling my ears. I played with the seam on his balls, making them tighten under my fingertips. His entire body jerked as I took him further into my throat.

Otis squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. I had to back off or he would spurt down my throat. Slowly sucking up to the head, I let it pop out of my mouth. He panted as I held him in my hand and licked from the seam of his balls all the way up his shaft to the little nubbin of flesh underneath the head of his cock. Circling around, I stiffened my tongue and flicked the bundle of nerves, then relaxed and returned to licking the head.

"Shit, fuck..." he moaned.

A large amount of pre-cum oozed out of the tip. I cleaned it off, sucking his shaft back into my mouth. I bobbed slowly and enjoyed his weight on my tongue. After a minute of worship, his cock throbbed.

"Stop, mama," Otis rasped, yanking my hair.

I halted all movement, giving him a chance to edge. Once his body relaxed, I unsuctioned my mouth from his cock.

"Ya okay?" I asked softly, massaging his thighs.

"Yeah," he breathed, smoothing my hair. "Fuck, ya give good head. Jesus fuckin' Christ, I fergot how good it was."

"Missed it, didn't ya?" I wiggled my eyebrows.

Otis laughed. "Fuck yeah! Now git up here and sit on my cock."

I giggled. "What happened ta you bein' my servant?"

"We'll git ta that. I'm far from done with you."

Straddling his lap, I kissed him tenderly and played with his hair. "Ya know what I miss?"

Sighing blissfully, Otis closed his arms around me. "What?"

"Those really deep kisses ya give that suck the life outta me. They're needy and hungry and passionate, and I can't breathe. It's like yer swallowin' my soul."

He smirked. "Maybe I am, mama. Or, maybe, it's just our souls minglin' t'gether."

I smiled and rubbed my tits against his chest. "I can't disagree."

Lining his cock up with my entrance, Otis shoved inside of me in one swift thrust. My back arched on its own accord, my eyes widening.

"Fuck!" I cried as he filled me to the hilt, my nails burrowing into his shoulders.

He clutched my hips, crammed his tongue into my mouth, and kissed me the way I had spoken about. He sucked the life out of me, his hips delaying until I adjusted to his size. 

Once we fell into a comfortable rhythm, he clutched my ass in one hand and pinched my nipples with the other. He knew what to do to get me off, and lifting my ass and slamming his cock into my pussy when my hips came back down was one of the ways to do it. Grunting with each thrust, he didn't detach his mouth from mine until I clawed his shoulders.

I sucked in air, only to have my oxygen cut off again when he clamped his hand around my throat. I didn't try to stop him. I loved to be choked. He let go once my face turned blue, then resumed pinching my nipples. Occasionally, he reached down to strum my clit. As my inner walls fluttered, I moaned.

Gripping my windpipe, Otis kissed me with enthusiasm. I whimpered, only to have no sound come out. Our hips rocked together, both of us chasing my orgasm. He knew it was approaching. My pussy clenched, making him growl.

Baring his teeth, he hissed, "Cum fer me, mama. I know yer right on the fuckin' edge."

His hand tightened around my throat, and he reached down to flick my clit. White light exploded behind my eyes, my mouth opened in a silent wail, and my pussy locked down on his cock. The lack of oxygen made me cum hard. I soaked his lap with my own juices.

My spasming orifice milked Otis for all he was worth. Moaning my name, he emptied his load inside of me. Letting go of my throat, he grasped my hips. I coughed and collapsed against him. 

I hadn't had an orgasm that intense since the last time I had fucked him. As we stilled, I rested against him and sucked in oxygen.

"Ya alright?" Otis panted, smoothing my hair.

Nodding, I nuzzled my face into his beard and huddled further into him. He wrapped his arms around me and caught his breath.

"Was I too rough?" he asked.

"No," I croaked.

"Still ain't done with you." 

"I didn't expect ya would be. It's never one and done with us."

\-------------

A/N: This is not my best writing. I know it isn't. My life is super stressful right now and I don't have a lot of motivation or inspiration. However, it's been almost a month and y'all deserved an update. Hopefully, the next update won't take as long as this one did, and it will be much better quality.


	5. Chapter 5

Straightening up before Otis, I slipped my nightgown off my hips. It plummeted to the carpet below with a soft puff. He shoved his bottom layer of clothing from his knees to his ankles and yanked it from his feet. Standing, he gazed at me intensely.

"Tell me what ya want, mama," he husked.

Without a word, I clasped his hand and tugged him toward my room.

Otis didn't budge. "You didn't tell me what ya want."

"I'm gonna show ya."

He tipped his head. I lead him down the hall and into my unlit bedroom. Stopping at the foot of my bed, I started to turn to him. He wrapped his arm around me to prevent me from doing so. Gently grasping my chin, he lifted my head and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. 

"Lemme hold you." Otis's voice was warm against my ear.

I barely nodded. Attacking my neck, he bathed my flesh with his tongue. I was so startled by his sudden movement, I squeaked. His gesture seemed so animalistic and lustful. 

"Ssh..." he hushed, nipping my jaw. "You know I won't hurt ya. Not unless ya want me to."

"Mmm, hmm..." 

I flicked my tongue out to caress Otis's thumb and sucked it into my mouth. He groaned. Kissing my shoulder and the crook of my neck, he cuddled me closely. His lean body pressed against mine, his hardened cock resting against the curve of my ass. 

Outside, a storm brewed. Lightning flashed and wind howled through the trees. The light pitter-patter of rain on the window as it began to fall relaxed me. Somehow, I forgot there was a turbulent world outside the envelopment of Otis's protective embrace. 

Sighing heavily, I submitted to his will. A pleasant languor spread from my head to my toes. There was only the heat of his skin, the movement of his skillful hand, and the dampness of his mouth as he manipulated the muscles of my neck and shoulder. 

His delicate touch was made from sin, from Hell itself. Maybe he really was the Devil like he claimed to be. He knew how to seduce away all of my inhibitions. His lips wrung my very soul from my body, consuming it into his own.

I clung to Otis's arm as it tightened around me. He popped his thumb from between my lips, let go of my chin, and gripped my waist. He hissed as his cock brushed my backside and his pre-cum smeared against my skin. My head rolled back against his collarbone. Greedily, he kissed my vulnerable throat, gnawing the tender flesh. I gasped as his beard brushed my skin. I tried to face him, but he fisted my hair. 

"I didn't tell you ta turn around," he scolded.

"I wanna kiss you," I whined.

"Finally, you told me what ya want. That's my good lil hellcat." 

Otis released his hold. As I turned to him and curled my fingers into his beard, a bolt of lightning illuminated his fiery blue eyes. 

"Tell me more," he demanded, his fingertips biting into my hips.

I yanked his beard to bring his face close to mine. His eyes darkened, a low growl erupting from deep within his chest.

"I want ya ta make love ta me," I breathed against his lips. "I want ya ta worship my body. I want ya ta eat my pussy and fuck me slow and deep 'til I beg ya ta finish me off." 

"Gimme some sugar. Make it sweet," Otis lisped, his hair grazing my cheeks.

Sometimes, a woman fucks a man because he looks good and she wants to try him on. Other times, she makes love to a man because she's been split in two and joining with him will put her back together again.

After Lucian's bullshit, my shattered state of mind needed to be pieced back together. I craved for someone to love me for exactly who I was and not who they wanted me to become. I required the validation that I was a desirable woman.

Some might question if Otis was capable of lovemaking. They might think he was too guarded or wonder if his soul was too corrupted. However, we had a bond most people never have with another human being. He knew how to do all of those things and more. He understood how to make me whole again because he himself was broken. 

I kissed him sensually, the tip of my tongue massaging his eagerly. Without breaking the kiss, he lowered me onto the bed. He settled between my thighs, rested his weight on his right elbow, and stroked my hair. His left hand explored every freckle, scar, and imperfection on my body, his fingertips leaving behind goose pimples in their travels. The throbbing ache in my groin spread to all of my erogenous zones like a dam which had burst and released a flood. 

Ending the kiss, I whimpered, "Otis, please."

He didn't respond. Nibbling my jugular, he pinched my rock hard nipples. His long hair skimmed my face, tickling my nose. Soft moans escaped me, but I wanted more. I _needed_ it.

"Please..." I mewled.

Two of his fingers delved inside my chasm, spreading my ample moisture up and down and around my opening. My hips circled and dipped along with his movements. His cock was hard as steel against my inner thigh. Expertly, he handled me. Sweetly, he tortured me until I pleaded again.

"Otis, _please_..."

"Fuck, I love it when ya beg," he murmured, his blue eyes glowing with passion. "Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want."

"Eat me."

Otis grunted his affirmation. Traveling down my body slowly, he sucked and tweaked my nipples and kissed my sensitive skin. Pushing my thighs open, he exposed my clit with his fingertips. He didn't touch it with his tongue; not yet. First, he licked around my opening and through my slick folds. Just to tease me, he suckled the crooks of my thighs. His facial hair scrubbed my flesh, making me moan.

Threading both hands into his hair, I begged, "_Please_, Otis. Suck my clit."

Complying, he drew the erect nub of flesh between his lips and drug his tongue over it. I moaned and squeezed my eyes shut, my hands smoothing his hair.

Detaching his mouth from my swollen clit, he ordered, "Fuckin' _look_ at me." 

As if through a haze, I met his powerful stare. Those blue eyes of his seared into my soul. Butterflies attacked my gut, and I mewled.

"Don't stop fuckin' lookin' at me," Otis snarled. "I wanna see yer pretty face when ya cum."

As he sucked my clit back into his mouth and slithered his tongue over it, I whimpered. One of his hands gripped my thigh; the other touched my sopping slit. His fingertips stroked my vulva, teasing the engorged flesh. My hips jerked. Squirming, I fisted the sheets.

"My g-spot," I panted.

Humming, he pushed two fingers inside my cavity and massaged my special spot. Heat coiled in my gut as he continued to suck my clit and use long strokes of his tongue. 

"Fuck..." I whimpered as his fingertips dug into the crook of my thigh. 

Reaching down, I clasped Otis's hand and brought it to my breasts. His eyes flickered to mine to make sure I was still watching, which I was. Taking the hint, he kneaded my tits and plucked my nipples. His tongue flicked my clit and his fingers worked my g-spot faster, driving me closer to orgasm.

"Otis," I moaned, tingles lighting up my entire body. "I'm..."

I cried out as my climax barrelled down on me, my back arching. Stars exploded behind my eyes, my pussy clamped down on his fingers, and waves of pleasure rolled throughout my entire body. He continued licking my clit and touching my g-spot but tapered off as my reaction mellowed. 

As he backed off of my juicy peach and hovered over top of me, I trembled. His mouth and beard were saturated with my essence. He caressed my face and hair with his slick fingers, showing me just how wet I really was. 

Bending down for a kiss, he traced my lips with his tongue. His hair shrouded my face. As I opened my mouth to him and curled my tongue with his, I combed my fingers through his hair. I tasted myself on his lips and in his mouth, but I didn't care. In that moment, I was kissing the man I loved, the man I had intimately missed for the last 6 years, and that was all that mattered. 

Otis settled on top of me and lined the tip of his pulsing cock up with my entrance. Breaking the kiss, he whispered, "Do ya want it?"

"Yes," I murmured, running my thumb over the age lines around his blazing eyeball.

Smirking devilishly, he bent his head to suckle one of my breasts. For a long moment, he stayed poised above me and toyed with my nipples, flicking, lapping, and gently running the bottom row of his teeth against them. When I wriggled, he slid his cock through my wet folds in one smooth, swift motion.

Crying out in pleasure as Otis filled me to the brink, I clung to him. As I yanked him closer, our bodies fused as one. He hushed me and kissed my forehead, my eyelids, the apples of my cheeks. He kept the lower half of his body still, strummed his thumb over the tiny nubbin of flesh hidden between my legs, and waited for an indication that I was ready for him to move forward. Like magic, my hips lifted on their own accord. My breathing increased as I rocked against him.

"That's my lil hellcat," Otis husked, kissing me sweetly. "Is this what ya wanted?"

I nodded. Tiny shivers shimmied down my upper body as he nipped my earlobe.  
His large hand shoved under my backside and held me tightly against him, rolling me with him in a primal rhythm.

"This?" Otis rasped.

He thrust short and hard into me, the impact sending jolts of pleasure through my body. I mewled.

"Yes, this," Otis murmured to himself smugly. "I know what ya need." And he did it again and again until the heat between us combusted and lava washed over my thighs. 

Between tongue-filled kisses, I stared into his eyes and wondered why I had ever thought he didn't care for me as deeply as he did. He eyed me with such lust, passion, and pure love. The emotions pouring from within him made tears pool into my eyes. He groaned above me, his hips pumping smoothly, but all the while he watched me with those fiery blue eyes. They entranced me, made me fall deeper in love than I already was.

As we moved together, our souls intertwined and dripped with sweat. My entire body was aflame. I shuddered under Otis's stimulating hand, seeking more of the delicious rapture only he could give me. He played me like a stringed instrument, awakening within me a harmony of profound and unimagined tunes.

Just as I had asked, he made love to me slowly and deeply. His kisses were sensual and full of desire, his touch like tiny licks of flames on my skin. 

As he pushed me towards the brink of ecstasy, I was overwhelmed by my own sentiments. He rocked deeper and harder, the bed creaking under us. Both of us were lost in the depths of our desires, our mouths connected hungrily in a white-hot kiss.

"Finish me. _Please_..." I begged as my pussy clenched.

Otis picked up the pace, reaching down to rub my clit. My core erupted with pleasure, my body splintering into a thousand brilliant fragments of sensation and light. Electricity blazed from my center, sparking through my limbs and zapping out my fingertips and toes. I was incandescent.

Yelping Otis's name, I clawed his backside. Pulling my legs up around his narrow hips, he ground into me. My spasming inner walls gripped his cock tightly, pulling him right along with me into his release. He twitched inside me, every muscle in his body tensing. Losing control, he snarled. He snapped his hips and spilled his seed deep within me. As we came down from our high, he stilled and rested his sweaty forehead against mine.

"Say it, Selene. Tell me ya love me," Otis said under his breath, running his fingertip down my temple.

"I love you," I whispered easily.

Tucking his face into my neck, he moaned into my ear like a dying man who had waited his whole life to hear that one, single phrase. Falling limp, he muttered, "I love you, too."

"I know," I breathed, smoothing his dampened hair. I was never so sure of anything in my entire life.

Grunting, Otis withdrew his shrinking cock from my pussy and rolled off of me. Gathering me in his arms, he intertwined his legs with mine and kissed me softly. I rested my head against his sweaty, lean chest, and received an affectionate pat on the ass. He was too tired and satisfied to say another word. The whiskey had gotten the better of us. The pelting of rain against the window lulled us both to sleep.

The loud rumble of thunder woke me a few times, but Otis slept harder than I had ever seen in the whole time I had known him. Flashes of lightning lit up his lanky body and the gray hair framing his handsome face. He looked peaceful in his state of slumber, almost angelic, which was the complete opposite of who he really was. It's a strange sight to behold when you have a self-proclaimed demon in your bed.

As I watched him snore softly, warm fuzziness radiated through my chest and overwhelmed me. I pressed a few light kisses to his lips. Sighing blissfully, he drew me into his side. I snuggled against him and nuzzled his beard. One side of his mouth turned up into a grin as I stroked his hair, but he never fully gained consciousness.

There's a huge difference in sex and making love. People have sex with someone who can satisfy them physically, someone who can quench their lust and hunger. They make love to someone who can fulfill their soul and feed their mind, someone who can fill a void.

When they have sex just for physical pleasure, they're ashamed and guilty at one point or another, but when they make love to someone who means everything to them, they never regret that time or the moments spent with that person. They will always rejoice in it. 

Otis did those things for me and so much more. He put me back together again. He gave me the validation I required.

\--------------------

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

A few weeks passed. Otis and I spent a lot of time together. We fucked a lot, but that was how it had always been with us. When we were together, we stayed at my house. I had never been inside his house in all the time I had known him. 

There were a few days here and there where Otis didn't contact me. I understood why. Those were the times he participated in extracurricular activities. His lack of communication was for my own safety, and I respected that. 

The night before, when I had dropped Otis off at the bottom of his road, he had told me he would take today to work on some art projects for Cutter's museum. I had accepted his need to be creative and kissed him goodbye.

Now, as I sat on my couch sipping coffee and watching the noon news, I couldn't get him off of my mind. It had only been 12 hours since I had last seen him, but my heart ached for his presence.

My ears perked up as the anchorman cited the next news report.

"Today, a local mother, Edith Corvin, is pleading with the public to help her locate her son. Lucian Corvin, a local Ruggsville man, has been missing for 5 days."

A recent photo of a smiling Lucian appeared on the screen, and I almost choked on my coffee. I was in the picture with him, but my face was blurred out. My mind automatically flashed to Otis, who had warned Lucian at the _Roadhouse_ that their dispute was not over.

"Mrs. Corvin reported Lucian missing to the local authorities when he didn't return home from work last Tuesday evening. He is 6'2" and weighs approximately 200 pounds. He was last seen wearing blue coveralls with his last name stitched on them. 

As of today, there are no leads. If you see or hear from this man, or have any information or clues about his whereabouts, please call the Ruggsville County Sheriff's Department at 475-1475."

A pounding on my front door startled me to the point of almost dropping my coffee. 

"What the hell?!" I exclaimed, whipping my head towards the door.

Setting my mug on the table, I pushed to my feet, made sure my robe was closed securely, and padded to the door. From the way the knock had echoed off the walls, I was positive the cops were on the other side.

I peered through the blinds. Two men in Ruggsville County Sheriff Department uniforms waited for me to answer the door. One of them had a white hat on. He looked like he could be the Sheriff. The badge on his vest confirmed my suspicion.

Drawing in a shaky breath, I expelled it slowly and opened the door. "Can I help y'all?"

"Selene Lockhart?" the man with the white hat presumed. He sported a scowl and a no-nonsense attitude. 

"Yes?" I uttered, holding my hand up to block the sun.

"I'm Sheriff John Quincy Wydell." He gestured to the man beside him. "This is Officer Ray Dobson." 

"Howdy, ma'am." Officer Dobson tipped his head, the sun shining off of his pristine midnight-colored hair.

"Hi." 

The surname Wydell rung a bell. A police Luitenant with the same last name was reported missing a few months back around Halloween, along with his Deputy, Steve Nash. A non-local man, Don Willis, disappeared with them while they searched for his daughter and her friends. Were the two Wydell's somehow related?

"Yer ex-boyfriend, Lucian Corvin, has been reported missin'. We're leadin' the search party. Mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?" Wydell inquired.

"Uhh, s-sure. C'mon in."

I stepped aside. They passed me by. After I closed the door, they followed me into the living room. 

"Please." I pointed to the couch. "Have a seat."

They didn't hesitate. Sheriff Wydell removed his hat and placed it next to him. His eyes were narrowed and full of analysis as he glanced around. Officer Dobson took off his yellow sunglasses and hung them over the front pocket of his uniform. He had kind eyes and impressive sideburns. 

Plopping down in the armchair, I made sure my robe was still closed. "I just saw on the news that Lucian is missin'." My gaze flicked to the TV. "I had no idea until right before y'all showed up."

Wydell raised a brow and laced his fingers in his lap. "So you haven't seen 'im?" 

"No. I filed a restraining order against 'im about a month ago. He, umm..."

"We know about the restraining order, ma'am, and the domestic violence. It's in our records."

"Of course it is." I nodded. "Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," Dobson assured.

"Folks don't always abide by those orders," Wydell stated. "That's why we wanted ta ask if you had seen 'im or spoken to 'im."

"No." I shook my head. "I haven't even seen 'im around town."

Wydell stroked his goatee. "Do you have any idea where he could be?"

"Not a clue. I just assumed he went to 'is mother's when we split up. That's where he always went when we fought or had problems."

"Does he have any enemies, or do you think anyone would wanna harm 'im?"

"Not that I know of," I lied. "He doesn't have many friends. The people he knows like 'im and enjoy 'is company. I've never seen 'im have a problem with anyone. When we were t'gether, he worked, came home, showered, ate, slept, repeat. Unless, of course, we went somewhere t'gether."

"Where did y'all frequent the most?" Wydell probed.

"Uhh..." I clicked my tongue. "The local steakhouse, mostly, or friends houses fer a lil drinkin' and card games." 

I left out the _Roadhouse_ on purpose. If they didn't know about it, they wouldn't go there and talk to anyone. I certainly didn't want them speaking to Sheila. She would spill the beans about what had happened between Otis and Lucian in an instant.

"Can you give me yer mutual friends' names so we can contact 'em?"

"Of course."

Dobson whipped out a pad and pen from his shirt pocket. As I dictated, he jotted down names, phone numbers, and addresses. The friends I listed never went with us to the _Roadhouse_, and Lucian and I never talked about it with them, so I doubted they would mention it.

"Do ya suspect any kinda foul play?" I asked, my mind rolling back to Otis.

"As o' this time, there is no evidence o' that. Mr. Corvin clocked out at work Tuesday evenin' but never returned to 'is mother's residence. No one from 'is place of employment saw anything outta the ordinary. He disappeared between 'is job and 'is mother's home without explanation. The vehicle he was drivin' was found on the side o' the road with a flat tire."

"That's..." Sighing, I pushed a hand through my hair. Otis had enlightened me as to how they captured most of their victims. The blown tire had his brother, RJ's, signature stamped all over it. "...very odd, indeed. He always came straight home when he lived here, and if he didn't, he always called."

"His mother said the same thing." Dobson tucked the pad and pen back into his shirt pocket.

"Mrs. Corvin didn't want us ta come here," Wydell noted. "Her exact words were, 'Don't bother that girl. I know she had nothin' ta do with this.', but police protocol calls fer questionin' anyone he knows or was close with; especially if he is or _was_ intimate with 'em."

"Well, yeah. That's ta be expected." I grimaced. "Bless her heart. I put her son in jail, yet, she wants me left outta this investigation."

"She's _very_ fond of you," Dobson added.

Nodding, I gulped. I was fond of her as well. She was a sweet lady who had an asshole for a son.

"It's part o' the reason why we waited this long ta approach you," Wydell claimed. "The other part is, you have a solid alibi. We know you were at work when Lucian disappeared. We contacted your employer a few days ago. He showed us yer time cards."

"He never said anything ta me," I mumbled.

"He was told not to," Wydell informed. "Do you mind if we take a look around? You can say no. We don't have a search warrant, and yer not in any trouble."

I rolled a shoulder. "G'head. All o' Lucian's stuff is still here. He never came ta git anything after I filed the restraining order."

"Would you mind takin' us around the house?"

"Yeah, sure."

I pushed to my feet. Wydell placed his hat on his head, and he and Dobson followed me around the house. They peeked into each room. Dobson seemed bored, but Wydell's wheels were turning as he made mental notes. Once they were done looking around, I directed them to the front door. 

"A man's been here, huh?" Wydell grinned mischievously. "Do you have a new love interest?"

My heart plummeted and my hands began to sweat, but I did my best to appear normal. Lying wouldn't get me anywhere, so I decided to be honest.

"Well, he's not new in my life, but he's a new..." I cleared my throat. "...partner." 

"You like 'im, don'cha?" Wydell teased, his grin widening. "Yer bed sure does look awfully _used_."

I scowled. "Sure, I like 'im. And I trust 'im. He wouldn't be in my home if I didn't."

Dobson's and Wydell's radios fizzled, interrupting our conversation.

"Wydell? Dobson? Over."

Wydell scoffed. Dobson pulled his walkie talkie from his belt.

"Dobson here."

"When're y'all comin' back to the station? I was promised donuts and coffee," the male voice on the other end whined.

I smiled. Dobson snickered. Wydell rolled his eyes.

"That would be Officer Collins," Wydell announced dryly. "Leave it ta_ him_ ta make us look professional."

"What? He's gotta eat. If 'is blood sugar gits off, he's not gonna be any good ta anybody," Dobson said in a high-pitched voice, which matched Collins'. He was obviously imitating him.

Wydell grunted. "Worthless fucker."

Dobson held up his hand to quiet the Sheriff and pushed the button on his walkie-talkie. "We're 'bout finished up here. You'll git yer coffee and donuts. Just relax."

"Well, alright. See y'all soon," Collins responded.

"Dobson out."

"Im'ma put the wrath o' the Lord up 'is ass when we git back," Wydell snarled.

"Aww, leave 'im alone. All he does is answer phones and push paperwork, and he's good at it," Dobson defended, putting his radio where it belonged. "He has no street experience what-so-ever."

"Fine," Wydell growled. He focused his attention on me. "You have a nice day, Ms. Lockhart. If we have any more questions, we'll be sure ta stop by or give ya a call. We have yer number on file."

"Okay. Y'all enjoy yer coffee and donuts." I stifled a laugh.

"We will," they said in unison. 

"Enjoy the rest o' yer day, ma'am," Dobson said.

I flashed him a smile and opened the door. They stepped outside, and I closed it behind them. Heaving a breath, I spied through the blinds. Wydell spoke on their way back to a white Bronco, his voice muffled because of the barrier between us.

"She didn't have fuck all ta do with this, but she knows somethin'. Note she didn't mention her new boyfriend. I guarantee you, whoever he is, he was a part o' this. I'm not sure she's certain he did it, but she definitely suspects it. She got defensive when I fucked with her about 'im. Lucky fer her, Collins interrupted that convo, but now I gotta reason ta come back. _And,_ we possibly have a lead."

My eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Fuck," I breathed. 

"How do ya know all this shit?" Dobson marveled.

"I'm the Sheriff fer a reason," Wydell said matter-of-factly. "Now let's git rollin' b'fore Collins has a fuckin' seizure from sugar withdraw."

"Yes, sir," Dobson said. 

They reached the white Bronco and hopped in. Wydell turned the ignition and took off like a bat out of hell. 

I had to warn Otis. I scrambled into my room, threw my robe on the bed, and tugged on a sundress. I was in such a hurry, I didn't bother to put on panties. 

Darting into the bathroom, I brushed my hair and teeth. On my way to the front door, I shoved my feet into a pair of flip flops and grabbed my purse.

Opening my front door, I closed and locked it. I strolled to my car like everything was normal, but on the inside, I was freaking the fuck out. Climbing in, I started the engine, backed out of my driveway, and drove toward Cutter's museum. The whole time I was on the road, I scanned for evidence of the police or that white Bronco. I was especially careful I wasn't tailed.

By the time I reached _Captain Spaulding's Museum of Monsters and Madmen_, I was a frenzied mess. My heart slammed against my ribcage with each beat, my palms were damp against my steering wheel, and my hands shook like a leaf in the wind.

Parking at the gas pump, I turned off the car. Hoisting my purse onto my shoulder, I jumped out of my vehicle and made my way inside. Spaulding wasn't at the counter, Otis was nowhere in sight, and the building was empty of customers. The place reeked like fried chicken and cleaning supplies.

"Cutter?" I called quietly.

There was no reply, so I dinged the bell on the countertop. Again, there was no response. I hit the bell again, a little more urgently.

"Hold it, hold it, hold it! Fer the love o' Jane Russell's big, fat horse's ass on toast, stop ringin' that Goddamn bell!" Cutter grumped. 

He emerged from the door behind the counter baring his rotten teeth. His attitude changed when he recognized me. He retracted his proverbial fangs, a bright smile lighting up his clownish features. He was in full makeup and in his best clown suit.

"Well, shit the bed!" he exclaimed, chuckling. "Howdy, darlin'! What can I do fer ya?"

"I-umm-" I dug in my purse for some cash. "Is Whitey here? He told me he'd be here t'day."

"Yeah, he's here. Ya need some gas?"

"No, not really. I'm just makin' it look good. I need ta talk to 'im."

Cutter observed my troubled demeanor closely, his smile fading. It dawned on him something major was bothering me. Leaning inside the doorway, he hollered for his attendant. 

"Ravelli! Git yer hand off yer cock and git yer fuckin' ass out here!" He faced me. "I'll git Ravelli ta pump yer gas and play around under the hood o' yer car while I take ya ta Whitey, alright?"

"Okay," I said softly. "Thanks." 

I handed Cutter a $5 bill. He cashed the gasoline sale out on the register just as Ravelli appeared in the doorway. Ravelli's eyes flickered to me, his lips curling into a ghost of a smile.

Ravelli didn't talk. He usually stood outside in a giant clown mask as the museum's mascot and waved at folks who drove by, worked on vehicles, and pushed people through the murder ride in the back. He lived in one of the rooms down in the basement, which was probably where Otis was constructing artwork.

"Go pump Selene's gas and pretend ta fuck around under the hood o' her car," Cutter ordered. "She needs ta talk ta Whitey."

Ravelli wandered around the counter and snagged a bottle of gas treatment off the shelf on his way out the door. I didn't have any extra money and shook my head.

"I don't have-" 

"Don't worry 'bout it," Cutter insisted. "I got it. C'mon back and I'll take ya downstairs."

Nodding, I careened behind the counter. Cutter gently grasped my elbow and led me through the doorway. His office was located back there, along with a private bathroom and the kitchen where he fried chicken. Stucky was at the stove over a deep fryer. Grinning, he waved. I managed to crack a smile. Cutter escorted me down a flight of steps, and we trekked down a gloomy hallway with 3 rooms.

"Otis!" Cutter yelled. Halting near the third room, he released my elbow.

"What?!" he snapped. "I told ya not ta fuckin' interrupt me!"

"Shut the fuck up! Selene's here!"

At the sound of my name, Otis's tone changed from harsh to curious and worried. He was aware I wouldn't come to the museum to see him unless something was wrong. 

"What? Why?" 

"Dunno. She's upset. I got Ravelli outside fuckin' with her car."

A chair hurriedly skidded across the dirty tiled floor, then a sink turned on. 

"Somethin' wrong with it?"

"No. It just looks good is all."

"Lemme scrub my hands. I'll be right there."

Huddling close to Cutter, I chewed my lip. He gripped my hand and squeezed reassuringly. Otis finished washing and turned off the sink. Marching across the room he was in, he stepped into the hallway. He was wearing an old pair of paint-covered overalls, which were unbuckled and folded at his waist, and a holey, dingy t-shirt that read, "Jesus Loves You But I Don't. Go Fuck Yourself." His chest was well defined in the old, thin cotton material, and his hair was held back with an elastic band. It was the first time I had seen him with his hair pulled back. Even in my panicked state, I found him incredibly attractive.

The emotions I had fought so hard to control boiled over. Bursting into tears, I covered my mouth with my hand. Otis glowered, his eyebrows furrowing. His concerned eyes bounced to Cutter, who let go of my hand and patted my lower back. Taking the hint, he climbed the stairs and made himself scarce. Otis opened his arms, and I darted into them.

"What's wrong, Mama?" he said into my ear, smoothing my hair.

"Lucian's missin'! The cops were at my house!" I blubbered. "They asked me a bunch o' questions and looked around!"

"Oh," Otis uttered, unsurprised. Sighing, he kissed my head and rubbed my back. "I took 'im. I told 'im we weren't finished that night at the _Roadhouse_."

"I figured that out, but I'm fuckin' terrified!" 

"Hey, look at me," he said under his breath. Angling my face to his, he stared into my soul. "Ya gotta calm down. It's gonna be alright."

Nodding, I sniffled and took a few deep breaths. He wiped the tears from my cheeks and pressed a few loving kisses to my lips, consoling my anxiety instantly.

Caressing my jaw, he murmured, "Tell me what the fuzz said."

I recounted our conversation, including what Wydell had said right before he and Dobson had left, and what he had told Dobson outside.

"Shit, fuck, shit, fuck!" Otis roared. Punching the wall next to us, he left a good-sized hole behind. "Ya shouldn't've let 'em search the fuckin' house!"

I flinched. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I tripped over my own feet as I retreated from his personal space. Somehow, I managed to stay upright. My lower lip wobbled, and more tears drained from my eyes. 

"It would o' looked weird if I didn't," I said in a strained voice.

Otis's fury receded immediately. "Baby, no," he said in a soothing tone, reaching out for me. "You know I would _never_ hurt you. My temper gits the best o' me sometimes. I'm sorry."

"I know. It's just-Lucian-"

"Yeah, he fuckin' hurt you. That's why ya backed away." 

I bobbed my head. Otis moved forward and embraced me snugly. Nestling my head in his shoulder, I closed my arms around his waist and clung to him.

"That's why I snatched that motherfucker," he hissed. "He's currently locked in a cage in my basement. and I have the only fuckin' key. That's _my_ plaything. He's been tortured and mutilated, but he's still alive. I plan ta kill 'im slowly."

"M-mutilated?" 

"Yeah, he's missin' some fingers on the hand he beat ya with. I yanked out all 'is nails, too, includin' 'is toenails. His teeth are next. He's had the holy fuckin' shit beat outta 'im again, had some words carved in ta 'is naked body, he's been starved, denied water...you git the idea."

"Good. Fucker deserves it," I grumbled.

"Ya should o' seen 'is face right b'fore I pistol-whipped 'im." Otis cackled. "He was gawkin' at the hole RJ blew in 'is tire. I came outta the woods with my gun and scared the holy shit right outta 'im. He begged fer 'is life b'fore I hit 'im upside 'is fucked up lookin' cranium. I only hit 'im hard enough ta knock 'im out. I didn't wanna leave any blood b'hind."

Snorting, I tilted my face to his. "Can I see 'im?"

Otis arched a brow. "Really? Are ya sure you can handle all that?"

"Yeah," I said without hesitation.

"Selene, you've never been inside my house b'fore. You don't know what kinda horrors lurk in there," he warned.

"I can take it," I said firmly.

"Yer gonna find out what kinda sadistic monster I _really_ am," Otis cautioned, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"I know who you are."

"You only know what I've told ya. You've never seen it with yer own eyes."

"I've seen some of it," I reminded him. "I don't care. I love you. I think it's 'bout time I found out what yer really all about."

"I love you, too, but..." He tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows pinching momentarily as he thought over what I had said. "Ya know what? Yer right. If we're gonna be t'gether and yer gonna be a part o' the Firefly family, ya need ta know it _all_. Ya need ta see how we operate, how we_ live_. Ya need ta meet the rest of us. No more secrets, right?"

"Right." Stroking his beard, I pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

"Alright. Lemme finish up here, then you can take me home."

"Okay."

"Just one thing. Were ya tailed?"

"Ya mean by the cops?"

Otis grunted.

"No. I made sure of it."

"That's my good lil hellcat," he praised, kissing my forehead.

I grinned. "Can I see what yer workin' on?"

He shrugged. "Don't see no harm in showin' it to ya. Just keep in mind it ain't done yet."

"Alright."

Clasping my hand, Otis guided me into the room and over to a work table littered with acrylic paints and brushes. A clay goatman statue with satanic symbols carved into its body stood on it. Any part of it that resembled a human was lean. It seemed it was transforming into the goat, which was creepy and sinister. It had huge, barbed horns, a long demon-like face, pointed ears, fangs, and a forked tongue. Black, feathered wings stretched from its back, it had claws instead of fingernails, a tail, and hooves for feet. The number 666 was etched into its forehead and a pentagram in its chest. It carried an enormous scythe in its left claw-hand, which sat upon its shoulder. Aside from the wings, only the human parts had been painted.

The closer I studied it, the more it appeared to be an Otis/Krampus mash-up. It had his long gray hair, beard, mustache, and blue eyes. It even displayed Otis's slender hips, large cock, and balls.

"Is-is that you?" I sputtered, gazing at him in awe. The man had a lot of artistic talent to be able to craft something that detailed out of clay.

"Yeah, that's me," Otis said proudly. "That's who I truly am. It's what I'll change into once I die and my devil-claimed soul leaves this rotting skinsuit I'm cursed with. I'll b'come a harvester of souls for Hell."

"You'll still be beautiful," I said softly.

"Oh, I'll be able to appear that way, but I won't be."

"You'll always be beautiful ta me." 

Smirking, he traced the curve of my ear. "So will you." 

"Yer puttin' this in Cutter's museum? It seems more personal than that."

"Fuck no. This is goin' in my bedroom once it's done."

"Oh."

"Wanna see some other shit I'm workin' on?" Otis asked hopefully.

"Fuck yeah!"

\---------------

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

As I drove down the long, wooded, dirt road which led to the Firefly farmhouse, my hands tightened on the steering wheel. What was I about to get myself into? I had never been inside Otis's home, let alone seen it. In the past, he had refused to allow me down his road. He had always made me drop him off at the end, no matter what the weather had been like.

I slowed down as the trees thinned out and the property came into view. The entire place was dilapidated. Junk cluttered the residence, the fences were rickety, and the house was decayed. Old, broken down vehicles littered the yard. I counted several different kinds of farm animals behind metal railings, including a few horses. Chickens scattered and dug around in a coop. Vegetable fields grew in the distance, along with some fruit trees.

"I know the place don't look like much, but it's home," Otis commented. "I'll do some repair work one o' these days."

"Who keeps up with all this shit?" I marveled. 

"Mostly me. RJ and Tiny help me maintain shit, but RJ runs the towin' business and is busy a lot, and Tiny disposes of a lot o' corpses. Baby and Mama usually tend ta anything garden related. Baby likes ta milk the cows and gather eggs, too. We don't venture in ta town fer food much cuz we have most o' what we need here; not unless we gotta. We buy livestock from other farmers when we need 'em."

"No wonder ya never sleep." 

"Yup. I'm always up ta my neck in somethin', whether it's shit around here or at Cutter's museum. Me and Mama know how ta sew and can make our own clothes, too, but I'd rather buy mine. Occasionally, I'll make somethin' outta human skin fer fun. Masks are my favorite."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. "You cut off people's faces?"

Otis snickered. "Yup. I've made whole fuckin' outfits b'fore."

Grunting, I concentrated on the road. He had warned me I was going to found out how much of a monster he really was. Fileting people's faces and wearing them as masks definitely made him a sadistic ghoul. My question was, did he mutilate his victims while they were still alive? I had the inkling the answer was yes. I decided to change the subject.

"Where did all this stuff around the property come from?"

"From most of our victims or shit we picked up off the side o' the road."

"What 'bout Hugo? Ya didn't mention 'im. How does he contribute?"

Otis huffed. "He don't. He sits on 'is old, fat ass, shoves food in 'is gullet, and hollers at the fuckin' TV. That old bitch hog pisses me the fuck off. He thinks he's in control, but he ain't. _I_ run this Goddamn family."

I stifled a laugh. I had a feeling he and Cutter butted heads in that department.

"Just like Hugo's idiot son, Foxy, thinks he's..." He took a deep breath. "Ya know what? Nevermind. You don't wanna hear 'bout the family fuckin' drama."

I giggled. "Ain't Foxy in the clink?"

"Yeah, fer some two-bit shit crimes he thinks make 'im some kinda big, walkin'-tall fuckin' badass. That motherfucker thinks he's famous or some shit." Otis scoffed and crossed his arms. "What the fuck ever. He's delusional as fuck. He don't know _shit_."

I smiled. The little bit of sibling rivalry Otis showed was cute. He was, without a doubt, the alpha male of the Firefly's; except where Cutter was concerned.

He switched topics. "This ain't all there is ta this place. We built a maze o' underground tunnels under a graveyard that lead ta Dr. Satan."

My eyes widened. "That legend is real?! I thought that was made up!"

Otis chuckled. "It's real alright, mama. He lives down there. So does Tiny's daddy."

"The one who lost 'is shit and set the house on fire?"

"Yeah. We call 'im The Professor." 

"Why's that?"

"He aids Dr. Satan; sorta like 'is partner in crime. He makes sure shit don't go wrong down there. If someone tries ta git away, he makes sure that don't happen." He pointed to an open area in front of the house. "Park there." 

I pulled into an uncluttered spot and cut off the engine.

"You ain't gotta lock the car. Nobody in the family'll fuck with it. It's safe here."

"Okay."

I left the keys in the ignition. We climbed out of the car and shut the doors. Otis met me at the front steps and closed his arms around my waist.

"You sure you can handle this?" His firey blue eyes probed mine deeply, his brow arching.

"Yeah." I gathered his bushy face in my hands and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

Otis grinned. "Be prepared ta be ambushed by Mama. She's been wantin' ta meet ya fer years."

"Oh, Lord." I blushed.

"It'll be fine. She'll make a big fuss at first, but she'll git over it real quick."

I sighed. "I hate bein' the center of attention."

"It'll only be fer a few minutes," he promised. "If yer gonna be a permanent part o' my life, we gotta git this part over with."

"This is one o' those times I wish I wore makeup. No one'll see how red my face'll get."

He chuckled and kissed my forehead. "Let's go inside and git it done."

I nodded. Otis placed his hand on the small of my back and led me up the steps. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open. A middle-aged woman with platinum blonde hair and royal blue eyes dressed in provocative clothing shot Otis an inquiring look. She was an older version of his sister, Baby.

"Otis, who-"

"Relax, Mama. This is Selene."

She gasped. "You finally brought her home? She's gorgeous!"

My face turned as red as a ripened Summer tomato.

"Yeah, she is." Otis glanced at me fondly and wrapped his arm around my waist. "Don't make a big fuckin' deal outta this. Selene hates attention."

"Don't make a big deal?! Otis, this is a huge deal! You never bring anyone home, and I been wantin' ta meet this girl fer years!"

Huddling against him, I covered my face with my hand and peeked at them through my fingers.

"Knock it the fuck off," Otis hissed, his eyes flashing. "Yer makin' her uncomfortable. And she's a fuckin' _woman_, not a girl."

She was so stung by his venomous tone, she reared back and held up her hands. "Okay, my sweet boy. Nothin' ta git yer tighty-whities in a twist about."

Otis snorted. "Maybe this is why I don't bring anyone home. Cuz ya act like _this_."

"I'm sorry, son," she said softly.

I found it ironic she called Otis sweet when he had wounded her with such simple words. She was frightened of him, yet loved him unconditionally. Something told me he was the most brutal member of the family. He probably lashed out at them a lot. I had seen him blow up on Baby and Cutter several times in the past for no reason at all.

"Let's try this again. Start over," he suggested through clenched teeth.

Mama bobbed her head and extended her hand. "Hello, sweetheart," she said warmly. "I'm Mother Firefly, but you can call me Mama like everyone else does. It's nice ta finally meet you. Otis has talked about you fer years. He said you were pretty, but he never said you were absolutely stunning."

"Mama," Otis groaned. "Yer bein' gushy."

Even though my cheeks were the color of an eggplant, I giggled and shook her hand. "Thank you. Good ta meet ya, too," I said meekly. 

"Come inside," she offered. "Baby's upstairs. My other boys're around somewhere. We were just gittin' ready ta sit down to an early supper. Are ya hungry?"

"Actually, I'm famished," I said. "I ain't had anythin' ta eat t'day."

"Otis?" Her hopeful eyes bounced to his. "You gonna eat?"

Otis didn't eat much. It was one of the reasons why he was so lean. He could go for days without food. I had chewed his exquisite ass for it since I met him. He only let me nag him so much until he finally gave in to shut me up, but he always ate right away if I whipped up something he really liked. His lack of eating is why I didn't mind if he helped himself to whatever he wanted when he was at my house. As long as he ate something, even if it was junk, I was happy.

"I could eat," he replied.

"I like it when ya eat," I said under my breath, stroking his bearded jaw. 

"I know." Otis kissed my fingertips tenderly.

Mama smiled brightly. "That's my sweet boy." 

She ushered us into the house and shut the door. The inside was just as decrepit as the outside. The wallpaper was peeling, and the wooden floors creaked with every step we made. The stench of death filled my nostrils, but the scent was so light I wasn't bothered by it. Eventually, I wouldn't notice.

Otis scanned my features and arched an eyebrow. I nodded to let him know I was okay. He laced his fingers with mine, and we followed Mama into the living room. A broody, muscular male was perched on a saggy sofa. He stared at a blaring TV, his long chestnut hair framing his face.

"RJ?" Mama called, bringing him out of his trance. 

His dark eyes flicked to hers, and he grunted.

"This is Selene, Otis's girlfriend."

"Hello, RJ."

RJ tipped his head in my direction and resumed watching TV.

"He ain't too talkative," Mama said, her tone apologetic.

I shrugged. "That's fine. Neither am I 'til I git ta know someone."

"What she means is RJ ain't one fer small talk," Otis explained. "It's nothin' personal. He don't speak unless he's gotta. And if he does, it's important and ya better listen."

"Yeah, that pretty much sums 'im up," Mama agreed. She stopped at the bottom of the steps. "Baby?!"

"Yeah?!"

"Ya comin' down fer supper? Otis brought Selene home!"

"He did _what_?!" Baby appeared at the top of the steps showing off her pearly whites. "Hey!" 

I smiled. "Hi."

She darted down the steps and hugged me. Focusing her attention on Otis, she asked, "Did ya bring her ta-"

"See hoss? Yes," Otis lisped.

Mama's eyebrows pinched together. "Ya did?" 

"Yeah."

"Why would ya subject her ta-"

"She asked ta see 'im. Is that so hard ta b'lieve?"

"Well, honey, he don't look-"

Otis rolled his eyes. "She knows that." 

"What else does she know?" Baby inquired.

"Everything there is ta know."

Mama and Baby exchanged an unreadable look.

Otis expelled a heavy sigh. "Would y'all stop worryin'? Shit's fine. Selene knows what we do."

Mama addressed me. "And yer alright with it?"

"I shouldn't be, but I am." I rubbed a hand over Otis's chest. "I love yer son. In my eyes, he's perfect. He can do no wrong."

"You've never seen 'im pissed off. Just wait. You ain't seen nothin' yet. He won't be so perfect then," Baby cautioned.

"Baby!" Mama scolded.

"No, she's right," Otis agreed.

"I've seen you pissed off," I stated.

"No." Otis snickered, shaking his head. "What happened at the _Roadhouse_ was just a tiny peek."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. My jaw opened and closed a few times before Otis pushed it shut. 

"That's cute," he uttered. He brushed his thumb over my chin, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mama waved us forward. "Let's go eat. RJ, go git Tiny and Grampa."

RJ pushed to his feet and left the room from a different doorway than we had entered. He was one of the tallest, broadest men I had ever seen. 

Otis, Baby, and I followed Mama down a hallway and into the dining room. The rich scent of tangy barbecue sauce wafted up my nostrils, but I couldn't place the meat. It wasn't beef, chicken, pork, venison, lamb, veal, or anything else I had smelled in the past. It sort of reminded me of burnt pork roast with a twisted sweetness. 

What Otis had said about being a cannibal flashed through my mind. _'Oh, God! It ain't an animal; it's a human bein'!'_ I thought. I somehow managed to hide a violent shudder. As my stomach rolled, I gulped down excess saliva.

"Selene, you sit next ta Otis," Mama offered.

"Okay." 

Otis escorted me to the head of the table. I sat on his right side. Mama sunk into a seat at the opposite end. Baby plopped down next to her. RJ stomped into the room with a much older, grumpy man on his heels, who I assumed must be Hugo. He eyeballed me lewdly and licked his lips. 

Otis bared his teeth and released a growl. "Selene's _mine_," he claimed. "Keep yer dirty fuckin' paws and filthy thoughts ta yerself."

"Looks like fresh pussy ta me," Hugo snarled.

Grimacing, I shivered and hugged myself. 

"Don't start with me, Hugo!" Otis snatched a large knife from his overalls, unsheathed it, and pointed it at him. "I'll pop out yer fuckin' eyeballs and feed 'em to ya! Then I'll cut out yer fuckin' tongue and shove it down yer fuckin' throat!"

"Watch yer mouth, Grampa! That's Otis's girlfriend! Have some respect!" Mama reprimanded.

Hugo grumbled under his breath. He and RJ took their places at the table. After observing Hugo for any more vulgarity, Otis retracted his knife.

"Where's Tiny?" Mama asked.

RJ lifted his steely gaze in the direction he had come from just as uneven, heavy footsteps emerged from a squeaky door somewhere else in the house. Tiny had a noticeable limp. Otis had told me Tiny had been badly burned from the fire his daddy had set and suffered from a form of gigantism. He had also said he couldn't hear very well, but I was not prepared for what I was about to see.

Tiny lumbered into the room slowly. His head almost touched the ceiling and was covered by a mask. He was severely deformed, his limp a result of it. His arms were horribly scarred from the fire. He had the hugest hands I had ever seen. RJ was tall, but Tiny had him beat by a mile. As he settled next to me, he and Otis nodded at each other. Beneath the mask, he had the kindest eyes out of all the Firefly's.

Mama scribbled on a notepad and held it up so Tiny could see it. It read, _That's Selene, Otis's girlfriend. _Tiny glanced at me and tipped his head. I smiled politely and patted his forearm to show him I wasn't intimidated or repulsed by his warped appearance. Otis had said he didn't get acceptance too much. I was willing to bet Tiny was in the same boat.

Mama put some meat on her plate and passed it along. She did the same thing with the potato salad, steamed veggies, and cornbread. When Tiny held the meat out for me to take, I gulped. I didn't know what to say, and I wasn't sure if he could hear me.

Otis swiped the plate from his brother before I had a chance to do anything. "Selene knows what that is. She ain't got no interest in eatin' it," he explained to his family. He turned his attention to me. "Everythin' else is safe ta eat."

His family murmured their replies, but no one objected. I shot him a grateful look. A corner of his mouth lifted into a ghost of a smile. He took a large portion of meat, passed the plate along, and gave my thigh a reassuring pat under the table. I squeezed his hand. I acquired a generous helping of everything else that came my way. 

We conversed while we ate. Otis and Mama did most of the talking. Cutter's name came up a few times. RJ grunted his agreement every once in a while. Baby and I added our two cents when it was appropriate. Hugo mostly scowled at Otis and eyeballed me like a dog in heat. Tiny was silent and watched whoever was speaking. I had no idea if he could read lips or not. They were a close-knit family who just so happened to torture, murder, and eat their victims.

When supper was over, Baby helped Mama clear the table. The others dissipated back to wherever they had come from. Otis guided me down the same hallway Tiny had previously emerged from. He halted when we reached a door with several locked deadbolts. It took me a second to come to the conclusion they were there to keep their victims from escaping if something went amiss.

"This door leads ta the basement. What's down here ain't fer the faint o' heart," Otis warned. "Once we go b'hind this door, the stench o' death'll hit ya in the face like a fuckin' sledgehammer. You'll see shit straight outta horror films. Hope ya don't lose yer supper."

"I'll be fine. I have a strong stomach," I insisted.

Nodding, he pressed a sensual kiss to my lips and caressed my jaw. "Just keep in mind. Whatever ya see, I would never do any o' that shit ta you. I love you. I wouldn't do that ta family, either." He chuckled darkly. "Well, Hugo is really pushin' my fuckin' buttons. Don't think I didn't notice how he was gawkin' at ya. He better leave ya the fuck alone."

I laughed softly. "If he knows what's good fer 'im, he will."

Otis smirked. "Ain't that the fuckin' truth."

"I have a question."

"Fire away."

"Can Tiny read lips? He watched everyone real close at supper."

He chuckled. "That wasn't what I expected ya ta ask, but yeah; fer the most part, he can."

"Then why'd Mama use the notepad?"

"Selene ain't a name he's too familiar with. If it's somethin' he ain't used ta seein' us say, we use the notepad."

"Gotcha."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"Ready ta venture down in ta the Firefly family's version o' Hell?"

"I'm ready."

Otis turned the deadbolts. The squeak from the door as he opened it matched the one from earlier before Tiny had shuffled into the dining room.

\-----------------------------------

To be continued!

Dun, dun, dun! Cliffhangers suck, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated if you enjoy my fics!


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